Within Enemy Lines
by Catheryne
Summary: Oliver joins the Suicide Squad in order to save Chloe Sullivan.
1. Chapter 1

**Within Enemy Lines**

by Catheryne (tennysonslady)

Summary: Oliver joins the Suicide Squad in order to save Chloe Sullivan.

Characters: Oliver, Chloe, JL, SS

Pairing: Chlollie

Rating: PG13

AN: I would truly appreciate if you let me know what you think of this story. Every part will be told from one POV. This will be Oliver's. Part 2 is Chloe's. Then we alternate.

**Part 1**

The mission was simple.

At least to Oliver Queen, the task at hand was simple enough. He suited up in his Green Arrow costume and put on his night vision goggles. The steady hum of the powerful machine underneath him was a comfort as he turned down the jagged road. There were no cars on the road, and the woman's voice in his ear, through his communication link was familiar.

It did not mean it was wanted. No. Tess had done a passable job taking over Watchtower operations, but not even if she singlehandedly saved every one of the members of the league would Oliver consider her a satisfactory replacement for Chloe. No one replaced Chloe.

And so it would begin—this mission that Oliver considered the most critical mission he had ever undertaken. It was a mission that would tear the team apart, put one vote over another. It was the first and the only time when Oliver used the informal power of his leadership and vetoed the majority vote. He was not proud of the way he had bulldozed the team, but circumstances were extenuating. If he was successful, then the tension in the Watchtower would be forgotten.

"About an hour down this exact road," Tess said into his ear, "up the hill."

Oliver did not respond.

"When you reach the tunnel two minutes down, you need to cut off communication, Archer." Oliver fought the urge to ask Tess not to use the code name. Chloe had said it so fondly before. But he tamped down the temper because he knew Tess would be the last to hear from him in that world. At least for a while. "Then you're on your own."

The week before, Victor and Bart had returned from a simple mission to South Korea, where they had been asked to retrieve video evidence of super soldiers. The mission had been a bust, almost. When they arrived, the storage room where the analog evidence had reportedly been stocked was busted open.

Super soldiers who leapt eight feet up into the ear with no issues, who swam twenty four hours and came up barely gasping, who took four to five rounds of ammunition without bleeding out.

And they had been beaten by another covert operations unit.

One thing they took home, even by accident, was a dirtied hoodie that belonged to Bart, stained with blood when he slipped on a puddle on the floor. It would have gone straight to the washing machine until Tess caught sight of the photographs that Victor had taken of the site. She had studied the scene, then demanded for the hoodie.

"If you want to know who beat us to the videos, we can run an analysis on the blood."

Strangers all, they found out, except for one.

"Archer," Tess said into his comm. link, "in this mission it's only you and me." Oliver clenched his jaw. He was going to forget the madness that had erupted upon the discovery that the South Korean facility held traces of Chloe's blood. Clearly, Tess would not let is so easily go. "I know you know it, but right now you're letting your feelings control your actions. In your shoes, I'd do the same."

He was not going to wait around to see how it unfolds. Chloe's blood was onsite in a job that was clearly the Suicide Squad's. Rick Flag had only attempted to throw him off scent, and now he was going to make damned sure no one would change his one destination, his one goal.

Trust. That was what Clark had asked for. He had asked Oliver to trust in Chloe, that she was on her own mission and that she would reach out if she needed them. His argument had been compelling, like all his other rhetoric on destiny and friendship. He had been idealistic enough to win to his side Canary, who prided herself on her ability to carry out individual missions.

But there was a bloodstain on Bart's uniform that screamed silently at him that whatever they thought this was, Chloe was no longer—if she ever was—in control.

Plan. That was Victor's rational decision. They would investigate the Suicide Squad, plot out and extrapolate their missions. It would take weeks, maybe months, but he was convinced it was the safest recourse. It was level-headed, the way they used to carry out missions together when he was at the helm. Aquaman and Impulse voted for Cyborg.

But Oliver would not sit on his hands as they drafted storyboards and imagined scenarios when he knew full well what the bastards were capable of. There was still a scar on his chest that twitched at the muscle memory of frying in elevated voltages shot straight through a metal prong.

No.

There was one way he would be certain that she was safe.

Oliver narrowed his eyes as he neared the tunnel. This was the point when he needed to cut off from the guide in his ear. "Wish me luck, Mercy."

"You don't need it," her voice came through loud and clear.

Oliver took off the comm. and discarded it into the cement road. Now he was going blind, but his destination had never been clearer than it was at that precise moment. The destination was still close to an hour away up the hill, but even in the distance Oliver could see the solid building lit modestly as it sat upon the green.

No one from the League had ever seen those headquarters. Oliver took a deep breath and pressed down his foot so his bike would speed up.

Oliver Queen, with his unpopular choice, now worked alone. Chloe was a prisoner, and the only way out was him.

So the Green Arrow was joining the Suicide Squad.

~o~o~o~

The welcome was as he had expected. It was cool, business-like, and the hint of triumph in Flag's face made Oliver fist his hand. He clamped down the urge to hit him on the side of his face. As they walked down the cold corridors, Oliver observed the motion-sensor cameras that followed as they passed. He wondered who it was that watched his arrival.

Oliver glanced towards the gathered men and women towards the far end of the corridor. He recognized none of them, but two talked quietly, their heads together as they studied him with suspicion. He quickly swept his gaze on all the faces that looked on and found none of the familiar smile that he wanted to see, the eyes that shone and lit up the room whenever he walked in.

Of course. What had he expected? She was held prisoner, possibly still tending to the wound that she had suffered when they dragged her to North Korea.

Flag stopped him right outside a barely lit room. He opened the door, and Oliver quickly looked inside. He had perfected listening to the muted keypad sounds and Oliver suspected he now knew the code.

He was led, not too gently, to the empty room that was surrounded by lenses focused towards him. He had seen the like in one of the military projects that Wayne Enterprises focused on yet Queen Industries absolutely refused to bid on. Every camera was focused on each angle, enough magnification to focus on every single twitch, to capture every reaction. The walls were porous too, and Oliver had enough corporate espionage to know that ultrasensitive mics surrounded him and recorded every shift in his breathing, documented changes in tone.

"What is this?" Oliver demanded, with careful, measured voice. "I volunteered to join when you recruited me, and now I'm in an interrogation room."

Flag stepped backwards, in a display of allowing him space, when Oliver really knew the commander did not want anything serving a barrier between Oliver and the walls. "We have valuable assets in this place. We would rather know they're safe from you."

It was laughable, that reason. No one would ever think it was the Suicide Squad who needed to protect itself from heroes like him. Oliver threw back his hood and removed his night vision glasses, showing his face clearly to the cameras. The world knew him, and the light had turned on far too bright to need them. "How do you expect to know that?"

"Answer my questions," Flag instructed. "If you're lying, we would know it. And believe me, there's more than sensors behind the walls."

A racing heartbeat, a hesitant pause—anything could blow his head off at any moment. Oliver kept himself calm. The mission was simple. Save Chloe. These little hassles were nothing but complications that needed to be addressed.

"Do they know where you are?"

"They know what I plan to do," Oliver answered easily. There was only one other soul who knew, and he would not offer that knowledge despite his distrust of Tess.

Flag grunted. "We are protecting our location," he said. "Tell me, do anyone of the superpowered vigilantes know the location of these headquarters."

Oliver stifled a smile, and honestly enough he said, "No. Impulse, Aquaman, Cyborg and Boy Scout have no idea where this is."

Flag nodded curtly. "I can't tell you how surprised I was to receive your message that you've changed your mind, that you want to join us. After our last—encounter—I thought you were completely unwilling to consider our offer."

"In our last encounter I found out you tortured my girlfriend, and you told me she was dead," Oliver answered. He clenched his jaw, because as much as possible he would rather not talk about Chloe. Talking about her, thinking about her, send his pulse racing and his heart thundering. He simply could not survive a test that required calm rationality.

And then came the final question, "Tell me, Green Arrow. Are you here to take us down?"

"No," he said truthfully. "I'm here to work with you, to share my skills, to do anything this group will require me to do." Because if that was what it entailed to find her, then he would do it. "And I'm beginning to get tired of the entrance exams. Do you want the Green Arrow or not?" Oliver turned the tables on Flag.

Flag remained quiet, and Oliver spotted the red earpiece that served as his comm., and funnelled information on Oliver's assessment. The man turned to Oliver, then nodded. "What do you know—you're emotional just like you were when you came looking for Chloe Sullivan—but you're telling the truth."

Oliver did not allow his relief to show. He was going to ransack the place until he found out where they kept her, and he was going to save her.

"You've always thought we were villains, haven't you?" Flag asked him directly.

And there was no need to lie. "Yes. But it doesn't matter," Oliver told him. "I will still do whatever you need me to do. Things change," he said, by way of a curt explanation.

Rick Flag shook his head, then paused. He placed a finger on the earpiece. Then he said, "You're in luck. Two of our deep cover agents are touching down at the rooftop. They're free to come and go as they please, so we only see them occasionally. You can stand to learn from them. They're the ones who led the takedown in Peru." Dinah had nearly been killed then. And then, "Why don't you come with me?"

It would take time from his actual mission, but Oliver agreed. The more comfortable Rick was about his loyalty, the sooner he could roam the grounds freely. They waited at the roof as a helicopter touched down. Out came tumbling two men in full black stealth gear.

Oliver thought these were the agents, and furrowed his brows when the figures in black remained crouched on the ground. That was when Oliver noticed the glint of the handcuffs around their wrists.

"Are you prepared to meet the most productive of our recruits?" Flag asked.

Oliver watched as a shiny black Italian shoe touched the roof, and noticed at once the impeccable fold of the trousers. The man alighted from the helicopter, then raised a hand to acknowledge Flag. Then the man extended a hand and Oliver watched as a smooth pale arm reached out.

His heart stopped.

Even that, he recognized—in the dark of the night, in the distance, with only the moonlight that silvered her skin. He recognized.

Oliver watched as the world slowly unravelled before him. She slid off the helicopter, then removed the scarf around her head. Her hair was still a shock of gold, a little longer now, and when she smiled at her companion Oliver remembered the smile that lit up the room had only always ever been meant for him. Oliver saw her toss something to the random guard who neared her, and he swore the glint of the metal captured the moonlight so well it nearly stopped midair and blinded him.

She was no prisoner. In fact, she had been around and about, working for the Squad so well she had become their most trusted, their best.

"Fantastic work," Flag murmured. "Never expected anything less from her."

Oliver heard the pride in his voice, the cocky arrogance that relayed how he had one over Oliver.

"She's a natural, you know. You should be proud."

If he were in that interrogation room, the alerts would have been raised and Oliver swore he would have been shot dead before long. She had been safe, free to come and go as she pleased. She was not imprisoned or hurt. No.

Free to come and go.

And still, she had abandoned him.

There she was, in her elation, for a job well done, she made a show of pulling her well-dressed partner forward, and hands that were not his cupped her face and lips that were not his closed over hers. And then the man wrapped his arms around her waist and lifted her up against him.

"I know he's proud, and they've only been partners for a few months."

Her companion had nodded towards them, and presumably she needed to see Flag. Chloe turned in their direction.

Her eyes met his.

The cheer turned to flint. Oliver watched as the emotions warred on her face. And then it settled to a cool, inscrutable expression. She walked towards them. Her companion placed a hand on the small of her back and walked with her.

"What are you doing here?" was her question.

Oliver focused on the way the man's arm vanished behind her, and he knew he held her. "Is that any way to greet me?" And then softly, he said, "I thought you were dead." Oliver swallowed the lump in his throat. She was healthy, vibrant, like she ruled this world much better than she did the Watchtower—like this fulfilled the emptiness inside of her that no work with the League could ever fill. And so, while Rick Flag and her companion settled into an easy discussion that summarized their mission critical updates, Oliver lowered his face until his lips nearly touched the shell of her ear. Her hand grasped his arm, and he felt her breath against his neck.

His skin crawled. He wondered if it was desire or disgust. Right then, he could not know.

"We all thought you were hurt," he whispered. "Turns out you were just a bitch."

She sucked in her breath. The hand on his arm dropped as if burned. It was her companion that returned to her side while Flag strode over to the prisoners they had bought. "Welcome to the team, Ollie," she pronounced in a low voice. Her voice took on a hard edge when she continued, "Now get the hell out."

tbc


	2. Chapter 2

**Within Enemy Lines**

by Catheryne (tennysonslady)  
Summary: Oliver joins the Suicide Squad in order to save Chloe Sullivan.  
Characters: Oliver, Chloe, JL, SS  
Pairing: Chlollie  
Rating: PG13

AN: If you are reading Legends, you will recognize one of the characters here. You will also see in this whole story several Suicide Squad members and incidents that are not shown in Smallville. Thanks for reading and giving this new plot bunny a chance to thrive.

**Part 2**

She felt his eyes on her, burning the back of her head. If looks killed, she had no doubt she would now be dead from the horror she saw in his regard. Chloe's hands fisted to her sides in a feeble attempt to keep herself from reaching out, from touching his cheek, from brushing her thumb across a cut on his brow that seemed never to have fully healed.

But she had been standing in the circle, fresh from a hunt with Nemesis and within Flag's reach. She had invested months into this infiltrating the task force that otherwise no one else would be able to do. So she stood there and took the hurtful words he whispered into her ear, kept herself steady when he leaned and she felt his breath on her ear. She refused to turn her head and touch the tip of her nose to his skin.

"Get the hell out," she had told him. And right then it was the most that she could give him.

They were close, so close. She could not put it past Oliver to have done the stupidest thing he could do, and have joined the Squad for her.

"You wish," Oliver returned. He looked up and at the sight of her partner approaching them with his father, he said quietly, "But this isn't just about me. There's a team of heroes out there that made the mistake of trusting you with their secret. I won't make it easy on you, Chloe."

And it stung—hard and well—that he could believe she would break the confidence of her friends.

She turned, because she knew well enough that Flag would expect some reaction from her. Her voice was cold. She would deal with Flag later. "Tell the White Queen I want to talk," she said curtly.

Chloe felt her partner's gloved hand on the small of her back. The shift in Oliver's stance was near imperceptible, but after the last months of training and covert ops she saw the slightest movement.

"Let's go," was the quiet request.

Chloe nodded and strode to the staircase. And through the entire way towards the basement rooms Chloe knew Oliver watched every step. She pushed into her assigned room and moved aside when her partner entered behind her. He shut the door and folded his arms across his chest. Chloe released the breath she held, then removed her jacket and tossed it onto the bed.

"What the hell is he doing here?" she cried out, her pitch high, to no one in particular.

He picked up the jacket haphazardly strewn on top of the crisp sheets, then draped it at the back of the single chair in the room. "Lower your voice. You don't know who's listening."

"I have to talk to Waller," Chloe said decidedly.

He shook his head, then told her, "You know I don't have the answer you need, and Waller won't respond. Not now."

"I want answers, Tom!"

Nemesis shook his head. He pulled up the chair and sat heavily on it, then rested his elbows on his knees. "What you need is to calm down." His deep, quiet voice served the purpose it did on their missions. Chloe blinked at him and opened her mouth to protest. "I can't have you running around half-cocked, Chloe."

She was frustrated, and he could tell that. Two people did not work as closely together, caught in espionage and pressed by danger as much as they had faced, and did not come out either prepared to kill each other or become closer than family.

"Not when I'll be out of sight in that rescue mission in Moscow," he continued.

Chloe smiled grimly, then told him, "You don't need to babysit me. I swear, you and Bette—" She saw the flash of warmth in his blue eyes at the mention of the name.

"Plastique is just paying you back."

And Chloe was grateful for the unexpected gesture. After Flag thought the cyanide had killed her and tossed her body for disposal, Plastique had rescued her from the line to the incinerator. Out of gratitude, the girl had said after the shock wore off from Chloe rising from the dead. After all, Chloe had tried, along with that paramedic guy, Bette told her, to save the girl that no one else wanted to save. For that alone, Bette had shrugged and told her she was going to try to bury her out back.

Payback explained Plastique, but not Tom. Or Ben. Or Eve.

"I had an agreement with Waller. The reason I stayed—" Her voice dropped. "They promised they would leave Oliver Queen alone."

And now it was shot to hell. She had sold her skills and expertise, had a difficult time convincing any of them that she was valuable enough of a recruit to trade for the Green Arrow.

Tom stood. "Well you need to relax so when you talk to them you're rational. You don't want your emotions to get the better of you." Chloe nodded. There were many things she learned from Tom—from giving her enough field lessons to ensure she didn't get killed out there, to the simple tips he gave her on dealing with Flag and Waller. "Besides, it's not completely their fault. Your tights-wearing hero made your sacrifice worthless when he came out, didn't he?"

She understood enough about Tom's loyalty to the Squad that made him agree to the missions no matter how desperate they were. To him there was a debt to repay. Just like Bette ultimately tried to take her side for in any conflict that divided the Squad.

But Waller and Flag knew so much more than Oliver. Apart from new friends, that was part of the discovery she had made in the months with the Squad. She needed to know exactly what they knew, and force the evidence out for eventual destruction.

When she was younger she thought her destiny was to protect Clark. Only when she grew up did she realize there was a world of heroes she had been called to protect.

Chloe managed to pull her lips to a half-smile. "And you know you're full of crap."

He chuckled, then pulled the door open to return to his room. "You've got blinders on, partner."

"Says the man who's bound to do anything they ask, even if he doesn't think it's right," she returned. Chloe was glad they gave her Nemesis in her first forays into the field. It was easier to keep her integrity intact when she was not working with a soul-less criminal.

He closed the door once more, then sighed. "Listen," he started. "In this job, we sacrifice a lot for this country." Chloe nodded, because that was how he saw the role he played undercover for the government. It was how the Bronze Tiger saw it, the same as Nightshade. "When you do a job like that, you need to take a firm grip of yourself so you don't lose sight of who you are."

"At the end of the day, this is just something I do," she said softly, repeating the words that he had told her before, "and then I go home."

"That's right. And to me, what is important is that I pay back these people who saved me when I knew I was supposed to die."

She could not agree with the logic, because so many of what Waller wanted done was against all moral codes.

"That's who I am," he emphasized.

And if there was one thing she learned about the Suicide Squad since she was forced to join after Plastique discovered her alive, and she had struck the deal with Flag and the White Queen so they would stop pursuing Oliver, it was that the Squad was not pure villain. Contrary to what Checkmate believed, there were more shades in the world than black and white.

"Good night," Tom said. As valuable a commodity as Nemesis was, he had already been scheduled for another active mission while his rookie of a partner stayed back. "I'll be gone before breakfast so I don't get front seats to the fireworks. Take it easy on them tomorrow."

~o~o~o~

It was the end of the next day when Flag called her to the war room. Chloe moved slowly, performing her morning ablutions with the sick satisfaction that Flag abhorred delay. The small rebellion made her feel better at least, and Chloe styled her hair in a half ponytail, taking care to set every strand in its proper place.

When she exited her room, Chloe found dead silence. Her brows furrowed. Even in the days when their missions were at peak and most agents were away, there was always sound. Someone was working out, or opening a can of soda, or practicing their foreign languages. She found it odd that it was so quiet now.

She then jumped at the noise of a door shutting behind her. Chloe whirled around and saw Oliver standing outside a room a couple of doors down from hers. His gaze flickered over here, moving from her head to her toe. Chloe shifted in self-consciousness.

"Alone?" he asked. "I would have thought you were with your partner."

She drew a puzzled frown until she remembered the last time he saw her she and Tom entered her room. Chloe could not believe this was the conversation they would have after months apart. She resisted the urge to reach out, to touch him. The arrogant smirk on his face irritated her, and she was caught between wanting to kiss him and wanting to smack him for the position he had put them in.

But she didn't want to talk about her partner, or anyone else. She wanted him out of here as soon as possible. The sooner he was gone, the better she would be in doing her job. "He's out of town," she said.

His eyes narrowed, and she could tell he was offended by the answer. "Unlike the people around here, Chloe, I highly doubt I'm a danger to anyone." She almost laughed out loud at the ridiculous statement. Oliver Queen could take down the entire headquarters from the inside. "You don't have to keep their secrets from me."

"Don't sell yourself short, Ollie. I'm sure you can take them down if you put your mind to it." She heard the sharp intake of his breath, and realized she had used the fond nickname so casually. It hardly fit the new person she portrayed. She took a deep breath, then said, "I assume you've been summoned by the commander?" It still made her skin crawl to call Flag anything but scum, but she knew wherever Waller kept the information Flag also knew.

"The commander." Oliver grunted and looked at her oddly. "So you'll walk with me," he said. "You sure that's safe?"

Her heart clenched. "Whatever you believe, Oliver, you've got to know I'd never hurt you."

They fell into step together as they walked to the elevator. "I was asking if you think that's safe for you." They entered the elevator, and Chloe felt the waves of tension emanating from Oliver. She had not seen him so coiled up like that since right after Jimmy's death. Chloe stayed in one corner and watched Oliver with guarded eyes. He caught her wary eyes and noted the distance between them and he shook his head.

When they reached the war room, Chloe moved to reach for the door. Her hand closed over Oliver's instead when he opened it for her.

"After you," he murmured, stepping aside and forcing her to brush past him as she entered. Chloe kept her breathing steady. She swallowed the lump in her throat.

Chloe stepped into the room. She saw Amanda Waller on the screen.

Flag narrowed his eyes as his gaze moved from Chloe to Oliver. "Glad you decided to join us."

Chloe had communicated to Waller enough since the day she joined. Now she recognized the White Queen's expressions, and noted the obvious distress and rage she controlled. Her heart raced. She did not know why, but she was sure Waller would tell her soon enough.

"Green Arrow," Waller said as she looked at Oliver. He was standing behind her, and Chloe felt the tension in him as he stood in attention. "Unfortunately we will need to speed up your integration to the team. We're sending you on a mission in place of Nemesis."

Chloe forced lightness in her voice when she inquired, "Moscow running longer than expected?"

"That idiot from the NSC failed to inform us that Trigorin was going to object to the rescue mission. Turns out she was ready to martyr herself and put the entire mission in jeopardy," Waller said with a scowl. Chloe took a deep breath. "Needless to say, we were unprepared and the mission failed. The subject is dead."

Chloe blinked. "Where's Nemesis?"

"Captured," Waller answered. And then she shook her head. "So will need you to step in, Green Arrow. Chloe, the tables are turned. This time you're the experienced agent with a new recruit in your hands. I trust you're up to the task."

Chloe nodded, processing the news she had only just heard. Captured. Tom was a master of this, and after one mission he was gone. Oliver needed out. Now. She was going to get him out if she had to kick him out of the operations helicopter. Suddenly she could not wait to begin.

"What's the mission?"

"We're going to need to tweak portions of the dossier before I email it to you. Nemesis could have taken any disguise, but since Queen is high profile changes have to be made," Waller stated. She looked to the side, and Chloe noticed Ben Turner step forward. She hoped Ben was working to help Tom. "I have to go. Go ahead and give them the mission specifics. We need them on the field as soon as possible."

The screen turned to black. Flag handed them both one folder each. It was the old dossier. Chloe recognized the impact of the failed mission. Waller and Flag were never caught unprepared. She turned to the first page of the dossier and saw the photograph of an attractive man. Her eyes turned to the name and her eyebrows rose.

"Your next target is Bruce Wayne," Flag told them. "This is simple, Chloe. Earn his trust. Then get his files on the Squad. Let Batman know to get off our case or we will tell the world about his night time proclivities."

"Tom's disguises allow us to insinuate ourselves into our subjects' lives. How do you propose I gain enough trust to gain access to his research?" she asked.

"You had a strong partner, so you never did get trained well on alternate strategies," Flag said matter-of-factly. "Maybe it's a good thing that Nemesis is out. This time we see how good you are. It's simple. Seduce him. It's the easiest way to get what you want." Flag nodded towards the door. "We'll send you the updated dossier within the hour. Get ready to leave."

Chloe turned around and exited the war room. She strode towards the elevator, her legs picking up speed every second. She heard Oliver jogging after her. Chloe clutched the dossier to her chest, then hit the elevator button. She got in and immediately went to the corner. The door started to close. She barely noticed that Oliver slid in just in the nick of time.

She felt the tears threatening to spill.

She had heard about the Batman. He was his city's Green Arrow. The Batman was a legend, and they knew him. She had always known they knew more than they let on, but she had not expected the confirmation so early in the morning, without any effort on her part. She needed to do this mission right or another hero's identity would be revealed.

Chloe swallowed, looking up at Oliver who now stared at her. As much as needed him out, she was going to need his help if Batman was going to survive this conflict with the Suicide Squad.

"Hey," he said gently. Chloe's eyes widened when he hit to emergency stop button on the elevator. "For what it's worth, I'm sorry about what happened to Nemesis. You must have cared about him."

"You've got to get out of this mess," she whispered half-heartedly.

He stepped forward. Chloe let out a sigh when she felt his fingers trace her cheekbone. Her eyes fluttered closed. And then she felt the slightest touch of his lips on hers. "How can I leave you?" he whispered gently.

Her eyes shot open. That was it.

She gently pushed against his chest and met his eyes. "Oliver," she said softly, "don't. I don't love you anymore."

She could see the way his eyes shuttered. "I don't believe you," he said.

"I stopped loving you the day I met Tom," she told him. She hoped there was no force in the universe that would make Nemesis' captivity a more painful experience just because she used her friend in a lie. "Why do you think I'm still here?" She could do this mission by herself. She would. That was the plan after all.

She saw his throat work and she wanted nothing more than to shower his neck with soothing kisses.

"Oliver, go home," she repeated.

He shook his head.

"Please."

At that word, his brows furrowed in confusion. He licked his lips, then said, "Do you really think you can seduce Bruce Wayne without my help?"

"If that's what I need to do."

He gave a humourless chuckle. "You, Chloe Sullivan, don't know how to seduce anyone." Chloe pursed her lips. "You failed miserably with Clark. Jimmy and Davis were already head over heels for you. They didn't require any seduction."

"And you?" she challenged.

He pointedly ignored her question. "I would hate to see you squander away the perfect mission record your boyfriend helped you make." Oliver pushed the go button on the elevator. "So I'll teach you. I know Wayne. I know what he wants. That way you have a fighting chance." And then, as if testing it on his tongue, he said, "Partner." Chloe was fascinated enough that she watched the way the r's rolled from his mouth.

Oliver turned his back to her. Behind him, Chloe leaned back against the cold metal of the elevator and closed her eyes.

tbc


	3. Chapter 3

**Within Enemy Lines**

by Catheryne (tennysonslady)  
Summary: Oliver joins the Suicide Squad in order to save Chloe Sullivan.  
Characters: Oliver, Chloe, JL, SS  
Pairing: Chlollie  
Rating: PG13

**Part 3**

Gotham Intercontinental was as sublime as Oliver Queen remembered it to be. As a child he had stayed there for two weeks every year with his parents close to the Thanksgiving holidays. The place reminded him of the scent of roasted turkeys and sensational desert pies. Stepping into the grand lobby, which was gorgeous but did not rank past twelfth of the best in the world, Oliver grew misty at the sight.

Whenever there was business to address in Gotham there was the Marriot, or the Astor, or the Hilton. There were business hotels that were sleek and modern, where his phone grabbed the wireless signal within a nanosecond upon entry. Gotham Intercon was designed like a first class luxury home, with a class in its décor unsurpassed still by the thousands of destinations in his memory.

Maybe it was only sentiment that made it so spectacular.

He felt Chloe's hand rest on his back, the metal of the bracelet she refused to remove cold even through his shirt. He glanced down to his side and noted her searching eyes. Oliver cleared his throat, then nodded towards the reception area.

"Mr Queen, we're happy to see you back!" came the greeting from the front desk.

It was a young woman, between twenty and thirty. Oliver knew she spoke for the hotel because there was no way she would have been employed long enough to have seen a young Oliver Queen running around the lobby darting in and out of the chocolate shops to find the best bittersweet confection.

He had never been one for sickening sweetness, even as a kid. There was always something about a sting of bitterness coating his tongue that suited Oliver Queen.

"A lot of one night stands in the Intercon, Oliver?" he heard her say.

And for the life of him, Oliver wondered how it was that he recognized that particular barb had been directed at him more to take his mind away from the weight that had settled in his chest. Maybe she wasn't so heartless as she appeared when she stabbed the team in the back.

This was supposed to be one job, and he was out. He had lost her. She had decided to turn her back on the team and he needed to accept that and move on. But the mission that was handed to him involved the one hero he had wanted to recruit into his team for some time now. He was not going to let the Suicide Squad or even Chloe Sullivan destroy a promising figure such as the Batman.

"I haven't been here since the year my parents died," he told her, his voice crisp. Oliver did not watch in triumph the way her face turned blank. She guarded herself well. She learned from the Squad well. She was always a quick learner. Oliver proceeded to the woman at the front desk and claimed the key card. "Leave it," he told her when she moved to pick up her bag.

She looked on in protest, so he took the bag from her hand and handed it over to the bellboy.

The uniformed attended gestured to the elevators and told them, "We'll follow with your bags, Mr Queen."

Chloe did not budge. She focused on her bag as it was placed on top of the pile. Oliver took her by her arm and propelled her towards the elevators. "The surveillance equipment is in there," she hissed.

"Don't you think people will raise eyebrows when they see Oliver Queen and his companion actually carrying their own bags?" he whispered in return. "They'll get there. This isn't some shack in the middle of nowhere. Nothing's going to get lost."

Her eyes narrowed at him. Oliver jutted out his chin in response. He had never had conflict with Chloe apart from the entire debacle with Davis Bloome and his otherworldly half. Suffice to say, there had never been a chance that they were at odds with each other since they got together. He pitied Clark. Chloe was terrifying when she was displeased.

She raised her eyebrows. Her gaze pointed at the card in his hand. She reached her hand out.

Oliver drew his brows together. If she thought he was going to sacrifice his own bed to a traitor, then she was kidding herself. "I'm holding on to this, thank you."

"You didn't get us a room each?"

"Don't tell me they," he said, stressing on the pronoun, "gave you and your partner enough funds to get a room each." He didn't believe Chloe would buy the excuse. Of course he could afford to do it if he wanted. It was not like Oliver could tell her he wanted to keep a close eye on her to keep her from betraying him further. He had jabbed more than once. He wasn't going to do it too many times in succession or she would explode.

"We do deep cover," Chloe answered. The elevators opened and Oliver held her arm as they stepped inside. When another couple arrived and waved for them to hold it, Oliver merely gave a cocky grin and closed the doors. Chloe shook her head. "We never get the chance to stay in fancy hotels like this. A lot of our subjects come from the dredges of society."

"So this is a first time for you too," he concluded, his voice dropping.

The elevator doors opened and Chloe walked forward. Oliver called to her, "Do you even know which room is ours?"

Chloe whirled around. "I figure you'd tell me when I'm hot." He smirked. She was giving him too much ammunition. She flushed. It was a normal, innocent, involuntary reaction. He could not believe she was capable of something that pure as well as something as awful as her betrayal.

"The very last room down this hall," he told her.

Chloe glanced at her watch. "Let's get this started," she said abruptly.

Oliver walked after her. As capable as was the staff, the two of them entered the room with their bags already lined on the low table. Chloe took the surveillance equipment at once. Oliver closed his hands over the handle. When Chloe looked back at him, he said, "Read your dossier again, partner. You're on the field. I'm watching." Oliver nodded to the bag that he knew contained her clothes. "Get ready." She picked up the bag and entered the bathroom. Oliver heard the water turn on in the shower.

Oliver set up the equipment and carefully laid out the mic and the miniscule camera that Chloe needed to have on her. He tested the reception. At the very least he needed to make sure he did not get cut off from her when she went in. He was doing it to protect Wayne.

A few minutes later he marvelled at the training that Chloe managed to get from the Squad because she ventured out of the bathroom wrapped in a towel. When she saw him, she tightened the towel around her body.

As if he had lost the right to see, and she had given the privilege to someone else.

His jaw tensed. Alone in a hotel room with the woman he thought he loved—

Shit. Who was he kidding? He loved her. Still loved her and that was why it stung so much how she had completely trampled over everything he felt.

Well, alone in a hotel room with Chloe he just did not want to think about the man and the team she had traded him and his for.

"Don't be self-conscious," he said, his words curt, emotionless. Oliver did not even look up from checking the surveillance equipment that was going to be pinned to her. He would not risk losing connection to her and going blind. "I've seen it all."

Chloe grabbed something he did not even see from the other bag. She went back to the bathroom without a word to him.

Oliver sighed. When she eventually emerged from the bathroom Oliver looked up. She was barefoot, with a towel over her shoulders while her hair was still wet. She was clad in a dark blue dress was thin enough that it clung to the curves of her body. It fell down to just past her thighs. Oliver swallowed painfully. He remembered those gleaming thighs, how strong they were when they gripped his hips, how they tasted on his lips when he kissed his way to her core.

"I'll need my silver shoes. Silver works with blue, right?"

How she would even think he was going to answer that question, he could not know. She rooted inside her other bag, then slipped into one silver heel then another. The muscles on her legs were firm when she teetered back to the bathroom in those heels.

Bruce Wayne was going to see her in that dress, in those heels.

He heard the hairdryer as she styled her hair. Oliver picked up the dossier and scanned through the information once again. Chloe would have memorized this by now. When she emerged once again, Oliver shut down the laptop cover and straightened.

"No," he declared. He was firm. He would brook no argument. Her breasts swelled above the cut of the dress. The shadow between them tempting at the dip. Chloe placed her hands on her hips. "No," he repeated. "I know what Bruce wants." Everything his girlfriend—his ex-girlfriend had put on display. "That is too much skin for Bruce Wayne."

"It's my first time to be the primary asset on the field," Chloe pointed out. "But it's not my first time to be the bait. This is what I wear to missions that require us to get a subject's attention so Tom can do his job."

Her partner had been so willing to pimp her out like this for a mission? Oliver strode to the minibar and twisted the cap off a bottle of water, then wet his dry throat. He had been tempted to get the brandy but he was not going to operate the watch drunk. Not when she was the one on the line. Not even when he half-hated her.

Chloe walked over to the mirror and looked at her reflection. "The simplest way to do it was to send me out there to lead away the subject." Oliver narrowed his eyes. He would save her partner himself long enough to kill him if he asked Chloe to do more than entrap. Chloe continued, "Then he assumed the disguise. Bait and switch."

"And since I'm no master of disguise, you're now asked to do the entire mission."

"You're still my backup," Chloe reminded him, her voice hesitant. She turned around and she looked at how the back of the dress looked.

Oliver wondered why. "Meaning?"

Chloe looked away from the mirror. Oliver's heart stopped when she told him what she needed. That she said the words to reluctantly, so uncertainly, staggered him. "Meaning you need to find it in your heart to drag yourself out there if you see that I'm about to be killed." She paused. "Can you manage that?"

He couldn't blame her. He did tell her she might not be safe in close proximity to him.

Oliver looked down at the surveillance devices. He picked up the mic and the camera and slipped them into his pocket. "Change back into your own clothes. I'll take you down to the boutiques downstairs to get a new dress." When she hesitated, he said, "One that will get Wayne's attention."

"Did Flag give you money?"

He scoffed. "Like I need his money."

"So you're really going to spend on someone you hate."

Oliver picked up his wallet. "Not the first time." It was the first time he ever loved anyone he hated as much as he did her. "I can even get you a bracelet that looks far better than that thing around your wrist."

"It's not like I can take it off."

"Why?" he said softly. "Someone gave it to you?"

"You and I joined the Squad in different ways, Oliver." He frowned, then looked back down at the bracelet. The small pulsing light was tiny, microscopic really. But Oliver noted the way it brightened a part of her skin.

On the way down in the elevator, Oliver felt Chloe's eyes on him. He met her eyes on the mirrored doors. She asked, "Was it ugly?"

She was fucking beautiful. The short dress accentuated everything on her body that her clothes in Metropolis hid. But that was what he was trying to avoid.

He cleared his throat. "The key to seducing Bruce Wayne is to keep some things a mystery. You don't have to show your soul. He appreciates beautiful women, women as intelligent as you." The roster of relationships that Bruce had boasted through the years put his to shame. While the models and actresses happily preened on Oliver Queen's arm, Bruce had dated journalists, doctors, reasearchers, professors. Chloe fit into Wayne's roster of women so well it made Oliver pause. Honestly, he told her, "You don't need to show so much skin to keep Wayne interested."

He should have told her showing skin would chase the man away, but he would give her this one. She looked nervous enough to be on her first primary mission.

In the hotel boutique, Chloe wandered around picking dresses from the racks. She glanced at him and Oliver saw she was holding the tag of one. He shook his head at her. He fingered through the styles and took one off the hanger, then another. He handed them over to her.

"Aren't you going to try anything on?"

From the corner of his eye, Oliver saw the lone photographer raise his camera from outside the boutique. He stepped forward and blocked the lens' view of Chloe. "I'll be sitting around in a van," he told her. "Why would I need new clothes?"

She took his choices and hers into the dressing room. Oliver sat in the armchair in the waiting area.

This was one thing he had looked forward to in that relationship, he thought. Pity they were doing this when it was all over.

Chloe stepped out of the dressing room and showed him the dress. It was his choice, and the moment she stepped outside Oliver shook his head. It did not suit her. It was one of those dresses that he sent in a box to say thank you for the night.

It was a red dress that just above her knees. The front was deceptively conservative while the back cut low enough that she was going to have to remove her panties.

"It's nice," Chloe said. She turned around to show him a 360 degree view of the dress. Oliver's pants tightened. "Don't tell me he won't appreciate this."

He kept his face blank when he told her, "He won't."

She went back to the dressing room and changed, and he rejected every one for various reasons. When she emerged in a white cocktail tube dress that flared ever so slightly at the hips, Oliver sat forward.

He shook his head. She rolled her eyes. And then he realized she knew all along he would veto the dress. "Is there anything I'm going to put on that will be good enough for you?" she demanded. "It's obvious that you're judging the person wearing the clothes." And then, "If someone else was doing this with me we would have been done thirty minutes ago."

"It's a lovely dress for a wedding reception," he told her coldly. "Not for this occasion unfortunately. If you weren't desperately wishing it wasn't me in this chair you would have trimmed down your choices to something that would actually work."

She blinked at him. "A wedding reception."

"You may have stopped loving me. And maybe I stopped loving you too," he told her. "But it doesn't mean I can't reminisce old fantasies of a stupid lovesick guy who actually believed it when a woman said she loved him."

In that white dress she walked forward. His back straightened, almost like he was preparing for battle. In that moment he thought he was. She shook her head at him. "No commitments. That's what we said."

"I didn't realize you could even commit to a cause, Chloe."

She stared at him for a long time, then turned around and headed back to the dressing room. A few minutes later she parted the curtains. She stood in a black silk dress that boasted a cowl neckline at the front and a trim front that dropped to a pencil cut skirt. Oliver stood behind her and checked the back of the dress.

He smelled her perfume from where he stood. "Is there space for your gun?"

"I'm not carrying one," she said.

He was going to double up on the watch. Oliver looked at their reflection in the mirror of the dressing room. He could tell that she was holding her breath. His eyes fell to the expanse of skin revealed by the silk. He reached out and fixed the draped silk that reached the small of her back. His thumb brushed against her spine. She shivered and gasped almost imperceptibly. "The dress is lesson one," he told her. "Lesson two, you already know. Do exactly what you just did for me when Wayne touches you right here." He saw her throat work when his cool fingers splayed at the bottom of her spine. "Because, Chloe, that sound can make a grown man weep," he confessed into his ear.

She stepped away abruptly, then whirled around to face him wide-eyed. "It's late," she breathed. "I shouldn't be late."

Oliver nodded. That sound—that wasn't an act. She wasn't that good of an actress. Even back then when she insisted they were nothing more than what she had labelled them to be, he saw she was lying when she opened eyes and looked at him with those shining eyes. He took the small camera and the mic from his pocket. He pinned the mic into the cowl neckline, his fingers very deliberately brushing against her breast.

"What are you trying to do, Ollie?" she asked. There was a frantic look on her face, confusion and panic warred. Her breathing was heavy. But she used his nickname. That alone was worth any effort on his part.

He put the camera in her hand. She would decide where to put it.

"Looking for proof that you're still in there," he told her. He could not hide the triumph in his voice.

"All you're doing is turning me on before you send me to Bruce Wayne," she said quietly. "Is that what you want?"

She didn't fight fair. Or maybe it was because they weren't on the same level anymore.

"Do you really think that if you can make me react to your touch, it means that I'm still the same old Chloe Sullivan you know?" She closed her hand over the small camera. She pulled him into a kiss, and Oliver's mouth yielded under hers. He tangled his tongue with hers and held her head steady against his. The fingers splayed on her back dug into her skin. Her hand fell between them and when he felt her cup his length right there in the curtained dressing room, he stepped backwards. She panted out of her kiss-bruised mouth. "Here's your first lesson, Archer. Sex isn't love. You always did have a hard time with that one. If you can't learn that lesson, leave."

And he could only respond with one word. "No."

Chloe shrugged. "Your choice." She turned around abruptly, then shoved the curtain away and stepped outside. "I'll see you in the room. I'll tell them you're paying for the dress."

Oliver looked on after her. He was not going to call out to her. There was no need. She made herself clear. And then he caught sight of her face in the mirrored wall.

He swore he saw her cheeks glisten. Then she was gone.

That little liar, he thought, his heart thundering in his ears.

Oliver looked back in the dressing room, at the discarded clothes. He picked up the white cocktail tube dress that had earlier been dismissed, then headed out towards the attendant. Oliver presented her with his own credit card. If there were no paparazzi photos that would surface from this, then at least his credit card purchase would alert Tess to his presence in Gotham City.

tbc


	4. Chapter 4

**Within Enemy Lines**

by Catheryne (tennysonslady)  
Summary: Oliver joins the Suicide Squad in order to save Chloe Sullivan.  
Characters: Oliver, Chloe, JL, SS  
Pairing: Chlollie  
Rating: PG13

AN: I love this story, and I love you for accompanying me on this journey.

**Part 4**

"Don't look like you're trying to get his attention," came his voice in her ear. Chloe itched to pull the communicator from her ear. Having him there, so close, reminded her of all the times when he would lean over her in bed and whisper sweet nothings. His voice had always been tender, like his breath was caressing every hidden part of her. Now his voice was cold, detached. It was like his own protest for her carefully selected words of rejection. "Plant yourself in one location where he can see you."

"Any ideas?" When she was the guide in his ear she gave him precise directions. Oliver sucked at being the watch.

She heard the rapidfire way he hit the keyboard and knew he was checking a map of the ballroom. After a few minutes when he did not return to her, Chloe checked around her until she was sure no one was close enough to hear. "Layout folder. It would be in the assistant's drive, not in the manager's. Search for the file that's been printed, say—" Chloe did a quick count in the perimeter, "fifty copies. It should be the one that was last accessed at about ten this morning."

There was silence. And then she heard a sigh of satisfaction. "You're still much better at behind the scenes work than me."

It made her smile. She was glad the hidden camera did not show her reaction. "Never doubt it, Archer." It sounded familiar. Chloe reminded herself to be more careful in her responses.

"Go to the bar. The one in the left corner about twenty feet from the stage," he said into her ear. "Bruce will pretend not to talk business across the piano. You'll be right where he can see you."

Chloe trusted him enough that she walked in the direction he gave.

"Get a cocktail. Limit yourself to two."

"I'm not going to lose my head," Chloe stated calmly.

"Can't be too careful."

So Chloe came up to the bar and asked for a Bloody Mary. She turned around and observed the guests. She was fascinated, and even murmured, "Kansas always hosted so much strangeness. But it doesn't compare to this."

"Show me," he said quietly.

His voice was soft. Chloe leaned back in the bar and thought if she closed her eyes it would be easy to imagine Oliver standing right beside her, and they were having this conversation as they attended together.

"Be careful," he said. "A couple of those are crooks. I've seen them before. We never have hard evidence so the team couldn't do much about them."

And this was the Batman's territory.

Chloe sipped her drink. Her gaze wandered to the crowd as she searched for Bruce Wayne. The entire time she had him in her sights except for those few seconds when her attention was caught by all the suspicious guests.

"Chloe," came his sharp voice. She realized the screen that Oliver got moved in a jarring speed as she frantically looked around. "Calm down. What's wrong?"

"I lost him."

"Relax. He'll find you," he said into her ear.

Chloe grimaced. He had said it once and she knew it was true. She needed to work on this. His assurance was empty. She was no Lois Lane or Lana Lang. Men did not seek her out. If she was going to complete this mission and at least warn Wayne against investigating the Squad, she needed to do this right. "Like hell he will," she said softly. "I'm no catch, Oliver. We both know that. I actually need to work to get attention."

He cursed under his breath, but it was audible enough that it rang in her ears.

"Good thing because I hate it so much," she told him.

"That's not true. Chloe—"

Chloe placed her glass back on the bar. She made her way through the crowd. The ball was thicker now as more people came to support the cause. Many seemed to have come to gawk at the billionaire, judging from the way his name dropped from many lips as she strode through the floor.

As she searched for the dark head of hair, Chloe found herself in the other end of the ballroom, looking at through the glass windows. The balcony was dimly lit, providing a safe haven for anyone who needed to get away from the crowd. If Bruce had one bone in his body that was similar to Oliver's, she knew she would find him out there seeking some silence.

"Who is that?" came Oliver's voice in her ear.

Chloe squinted her eyes and saw the shadowed figure in the darkness. Her gaze studied him in the darkness, and she gasped. "Floyd," she whispered. Chloe looked back into the ball, then pushed the doors and stepped out into the balcony.

"Who?" he asked.

Chloe could hear him typing into his computer, and she was grateful that Oliver was such a slow researcher. Slow was too strong a word. But at least he couldn't compare to her. "It's—an acquaintance," she told him softly. "Stay there."

Chloe stayed a few feet away from him. Tom had told her about Floyd. She had eaten in a table with Floyd. Once or twice, Chloe even managed to nod at him as they passed by each other in mission intervals. Once or twice, she had heard his mumbled good mornings. Deadshot, Tom called him. And Floyd called Tom Nemesis. When once Flag had planned to send Chloe in a mission with him, her partner had staunchly refused.

Deadshot wanted to die, but he had always been too much of a coward to do anything about it himself. But Chloe was not going on a mission with a man who had a death wish.

But this was her mission. Deadshot had no place here.

"Evening," he said in greeting. Typical. And she did not know him at all.

Chloe's eyes narrowed. "What are you doing in my deep cover, Floyd?"

Clearly he was not undercover either. The guns hanging on either side of his waist was a clear indication that no cover was needed. Deadshot cocked his head to the side. He glanced at the event behind her, then back at her. "Checking," was his usual curt answer.

"Waller doesn't trust me, even until now?" At least that impressed her a little. Her regard for the White Queen as a mastermind had fallen notches when the Squad took her in at her word. No leader worth her salt would have so easily trusted her. "She had to send you to spy on a spy?"

His answer was indirect when he told her, "I came to make sure you're doing what you're asked."

Exactly.

"Not for the White Queen," he qualified. "I wouldn't be caught dead in Wayne's ball," he said with disgust, "even for the White Queen."

"Then for who?" There were few people that Deadshot respected in the Squad. Chloe had seen him treat their teammates like the lowest beings for wanting to survive. "Your bosom buddy Flag," Chloe concluded.

"For Nemesis."

Chloe sucked in her breath. Deadshot and her partner had never been friends. Not as she remembered it.

"Everyone else in your tightly knit little group has gone off to rescue your partner. They seem to have forgotten about you."

He wanted something. There was no way he would come to check just because he was concerned. Acquaintances did not do that. Friends did not do that. If they did then Clark would have found out long ago where he was. No. It was her job to protect them all, not the other way around.

Chloe's hand rose to the ruffled silk of the cowl neckline. She searched for the mic and very carefully covered it so no sound would reach Oliver. This was not something he needed to hear.

"I can take care of this," she said quietly.

Deadshot smirked. It was arrogant, all-knowing, confident. It was precisely the type of expression that set him apart from the team. Then again, in the Squad, as long as you survived then you were successful. Deadshot had a different measure of success.

"Just remember. Your nice bracelet over there may look prettier than the ones that the team wears, but it's no less powerful." Chloe glanced at the finely crafted gift that Flag had given her on the day she joined. When she reached an agreement with Waller, that Oliver Queen would be left alone, Chloe had extended her own arm and allowed Flag to wrap the cool metal around her wrist. It was distinctively better than the tracking bracelets of every prisoner that started working for the Squad. Chloe liked to think she had the breakthrough fashion accessory, with the dainty loops and pretty studs surrounding it. "It's not going to just rip your entire arm out. You'd be lucky if a strand of your hair escapes undamaged."

She fingered the bracelet that Oliver had taunted her about. A gift from her partner, he thought.

When all this was over, when she ran, she hoped Oliver was as far away from her as he could possibly be.

"You've never been the comforting kind," Chloe said.

"That's because I don't need to be." Deadshot nodded towards the ball. "You do what you're asked to do—no more, no less." Chloe felt his eyes back on her, and her stomach sank. She could see it in his brow. He knew there was something else, something new, something hidden. "Whatever is in the dossier, that is what you do. You know what would happen if you stray outside the neat little outline they handed to you."

Suddenly the bracelet was heavy on her wrist.

There wasn't even Nemesis to keep her straight now, to make sure she was within the boundaries that Waller allowed.

"We've always been about the mission no matter the cost. I'm ready for it. Your partner is fine with it. You don't seem to be anywhere near ready for what missions cost."

Chloe took a deep breath. "I refuse to believe that you're here as a Good Samaritan, checking up on me while my partner is out of commission." Deadshot was a mercenary. Everyone else had a variety of reasons for joining. Deadshot was there for the money and a desire to die. He was there for something else.

"Queen. He's that Queen from Star City."

There it was. He was going for the billions that Oliver had at his disposal. Pity that Oliver was not likely going to give a dime to anyone blackmailing the woman who betrayed him.

"If he gets out," he started.

"When. When he gets out," she said, "what do you want from him?"

"I have a daughter in Star City," he told her. "Zoe. You tell him to keep her safe."

Chloe released the breath she held. She gave him a puzzled regard. He would check up on her in lieu of the team, and that was what he wanted in exchange. She could not speak. He made his way down the balcony with ease. She made her way to the loveseat at the corner and settled down. She closed her eyes and leaned her head back.

She heard the thump, and found herself lifted by her arms up to her feet. Chloe opened her eyes and found Oliver's frantic brown eyes blazing at her. He was panting. Chloe realized he had ziplined to the balcony, had not taken the time to change into his uniform. His black t-shirt was sweaty with exertion.

"Oliver?"

"You turned off the mic," he exclaimed.

"I needed privacy."

His breath was harsh. Chloe noticed the deep way his chest moved under the moist shirt. "You never turn off the mic!" he panted. "I thought you were—"

Maybe—maybe he did not hate her as much as she thought. Maybe it was not such a punishment to ask him to save her.

"I'm okay," she whispered.

His grip on her arms eased. Chloe looked down and saw the marks of his fingers on her skin. Oliver glanced down. She felt his thumbs brush over them. She swallowed the lump in her throat.

He slowly reached forward and fixed the black silk that she had been wearing when she walked out on him earlier. He was feeling for the mic, ensuring it was in place.

"Wayne is coming," he said quietly.

She did not ask how he knew. He could see into the lighted ball from his vantage point. She nodded.

"Don't turn it off. I need to be linked to you the entire time."

Sometimes, she thought, they always were.

He was gone just as quickly as he had arrived. Chloe raised her face up to the night air and felt the breeze blow coolly on her hot cheeks. This was how it was always going to be. Every moment between them she felt like she was going to explode, become some weakling who sobbed and clung to her hero, plead with him to keep her safe. Every time she was going to want to become selfish, to be placed above an entire world that needed them.

Every time she was going to cry just a little bit in release.

She dabbed at her cheeks with the back of her hands. Chloe drew a deep cleansing breath.

And then there was a crisp white handkerchief hanging in front of her. Chloe's gaze shot back to the man who had so quietly crept up on her.

He was as somber as he was in the dossier. He regarded her with some concern. Chloe realized he had moved so silently she had not had time to recover.

"Whoever he is, he's an asshole who won't be welcome to Gotham City anytime soon."

And he came close to being as charming as Oliver Queen. Chloe bit her lower lip, then gave him a reluctant smile.

"There it is."

"What?" she said softly. Chloe took the handkerchief he offered and dried her eyes.

When I saw you from across the room earlier tonight I thought to myself, that woman is going to have an earth-shattering smile." His lips curved. "And I was right. There it is."

"Mr Wayne, you have a fantastic way with words."

"And I am at a disadvantage. You have my name, and most likely a lot more than that. I don't know yours."

Chloe heard the almost indiscernible beep. Oliver was back online.

"Call me Chloe," she told him. There was no need for false names. Her digital traces had been removed from the internet. "And aside from the fact that you're Bruce Wayne, and a celebrity, all that matters is what I know tonight." She handed him back his handkerchief.

Chloe could hear Oliver's breathing in her ear.

Wayne took the handkerchief back and put it in his pants pocket. He returned, "And what is that, Chloe?"

"Tonight," she said, as honestly as she could, "you're my hero."

She allowed him to think it was for something as gentlemanly as offering a handkerchief to a lady in tears. It was nothing compared to the feat of zipping to her at the slightest indication of danger.

But Bruce Wayne was her hero tonight. He was the hero she was destined to save.

He extended a hand, and Chloe glanced down at the offer.

Oliver's voice was quiet. "Hesitate. Count to four." And she did. "Give him your hand. Just before you enter the ballroom, squeeze it lightly. It will make him feel like you need him. You want him to feel that you need him," he told her. "Heroes—men—they need to know you need them sometimes."

tbc


	5. Chapter 5

**Within Enemy Lines**

by Catheryne (tennysonslady)  
Summary: Oliver joins the Suicide Squad in order to save Chloe Sullivan.  
Characters: Oliver, Chloe, JL, SS  
Pairing: Chlollie  
Rating: PG13

AN: I was going to write the entire Manor experience but I have a 1am Central meeting and must force myself to relax my Chlollie heart and get to bed. I hope this part will go over well.

**Part 5**

It took time before he was calm enough to think straight. The moment that Oliver lost contact with her was the precise moment that he pulled up information on the new arrival that she had called Floyd. Deadshot. Within the space of seconds their whole lives ran in a rapid fire succession in his head.

That first time she took his hand. Out in that safe when they both knew she saved his life.

That first kiss. In the quiet dimly lit Watchtower he had taken his chance and found his arms full of the woman who was going to live inside his head forever.

That first time he heard her say she loved him. Crammed in the constricted space when he could not even see her face. He swore it would be the last time.

Every still picture he had taken of the future that he had thought she destroyed by joining the Squad—all of it ran through his head. Oliver had grabbed the weapons he had stocked in the van for any occasion when she would need him. He had no plan, no strategy. All that he knew was their comm. link was dead.

Oliver had staked the place before she even walked inside, and she knew which building to climb for the perfect angle. He peeled his way up the backdoor staircase until he reached the rooftop. The arrow he released buried in the concrete wall of the hotel. He did not have his glasses on, but he could see her black-clad figure still on the loveseat. His heart was loud, rapid, out of control.

This was not how they would end. Loved her or hated her, this was not how they were going to lose each other.

In his jeans and shirt, with no protection save his faith that his grip on the zipline was strong enough ungloved, Oliver flew high above the Gotham City streets and dropped onto the balcony. His knees almost buckled when he heard her voice. It was the most welcome sound he had heard in the minutes since their communication went mute.

Immediately, unsteadily, he moved to her and gripped her arms. He pulled her up, as close as he could. He needed to see her eyes, know she was alive.

"Oliver?" she breathed in disbelief.

Relief made him stagger on his feet. "You turned off the mic!"

"I needed privacy." It was an obvious response, unacceptable. Not when he thought he lost her.

He could not control his breath. Not yet. He wondered when he would get enough oxygen to breathe. His eyes ran with furious speed from his head to his toe. "You never turn off the mic!" he panted. "I thought you were—" He would not say it. Saying it would make it true.

But in the worst moment as he hung in the air he had been afraid when he touched the black silk it would come out warm and moist and sticky.

Deadshot never missed. He knew that much. It was all over the bits of information he managed to gather in the space of those breathless minutes when he did not know if she was still alive.

Oliver hated the uncertainty in her eyes as she looked up at him. He abhorred the surprise. As if she had some passing doubt that he would come and save her if it came down to it. What had changed in the months since that she would even think that?

"I'm okay," she finally whispered.

And that was when he allowed his grip to loosen. He was reluctant to pull his hands away. It was too rare these days that he could touch her like this. The five short months they were together he touched her so much it was almost like he breathed her. Oliver brushed his thumbs over the marks he had made on her skin. Her throat worked. It pained him to see that his mere touch could cause such a look of hurt.

But he prolonged the connection by trailing his fingers to the black silk of the dress. If he needed to leave her, he sure as well would make sure the mic was loud enough that he could close his eyes in the dim stillness of the van and if he listened closely enough he could hear her steady heartbeat surround him. At least then no matter how far they were he would know she was alive.

Her back was turned towards the ball. Oliver saw over his shoulder how his former classmate strode towards the French doors that led to the balcony. He knew Bruce Wayne well enough to recognize that he would sooner or later come after her. If she had been in danger, he would have been too late. But for the games that Wayne played, he was just on time.

"Wayne is coming," he told her. Oliver looked down at her and was amazed by the look of surprise on her face. Of course he would come after her. The expanse of skin that the backless dress revealed was too attractive to ignore. The contrast of the black dress and her pale skin made him ache, reminded him of the days when he could so easily peel away her clothes and kiss every inch he revealed. "Don't turn it off," he reminded her. And then, as if she could or would connect the words to how he wanted her to feel, he needlessly added, "I need to be linked to you the entire time."

His heart skipped.

Even after she had traded him in for this world he did not and would not understand, he was drawn to those green eyes that fooled him into hopes that she loved him.

Oliver pulled the arrow and shot at a new angle. When he landed on all fours on the ground, Oliver dusted off his aching palms. He entered the van and plugged in.

It all reminded him of the first day he met her. Oliver wondered if Wayne was as oblivious as he had once been. The miniscule camera was angled well enough that he saw Wayne's look of appreciation. Apparently, it was not just the grade point average that set Bruce Wayne higher than him. The natural intelligence that garnered Wayne the top class honors extended to his assessment of women.

Then again, Oliver remembered the way she looked tonight, under the gold light of the balcony, with the moon throwing silver streaks on her blond hair. Tonight she was impossible to miss.

"Call me Chloe," he heard her say. It may have been wishful thinking, but he thought there was not the level of awe in her voice now that she had exhibited when he himself met her at that barn. A barn, he thought. While Bruce Wayne first saw her under the moonlight, out in the balcony of a grand ballroom. His own first meeting had been underwhelming yet it changed his life forever. He wondered what an enchanting introduction would do to Wayne. "And aside from the fact that you're Bruce Wayne, and a celebrity, all that matters is what I know tonight."

Bruce took the handkerchief back from her. Oliver sat forward when he saw how Bruce's fingers intentionally brushed her own.

A wave of something unexplained rose inside of him, threatening to choke her. He realized the mistake when he heard the echo of his own harsh breath in the system.

"And what is that, Chloe?" The damned bastard was fishing for a compliment.

"Tonight, you're my hero."

Like hell he was. Oliver was the one who cut his hands raw trying to reach her. His rational mind calmed his irrational rebel and told him the words were not selected to hurt him.

But these days, her words, her actions, belied so much what he saw in her eyes.

When Bruce extended his hand, he forced himself to think of the mission. Instead his memory flew to that day when she had been taken, when both he and Clark had failed to protect her. That day she was unwilling to go with the White Queen. Seeing her had given him peace and contentment like he had not felt before. And when they clasped hands out there on the street, when they were fooling themselves, Oliver had not felt more comfortable in his entire life.

Now Bruce Wayne was about to share in that grand discovery that until then only Oliver knew.

"Hesitate," he instructed her. They were playing Bruce Wayne. He had to remember that. She had to accept that. "Count to four." Eagerness would lessen her in Wayne's regard. At least that was the reason he gave himself for the instruction. In his mind he counted well past four. At the count of eight, when Bruce's hand did not waver, Oliver capitulated. "Give him your hand. Just before you enter the ballroom, squeeze it lightly." That was what she had done with his hand as they walked from the coffeehouse back to the clocktower. He recalled the exact way he had felt when her fingers twined with his. "It will make him feel like you need him. You want him to feel that you need him."

Back then it meant the world to him that someone as strong and capable could possibly want him. He had to have known it would not last. Every last woman in his life had been strong. They had been so strong he had been easy to discard. And for once, with Chloe, Oliver had thought someone loved him enough to need him too.

"Heroes—men—they need to know you need them sometimes."

Oliver leaned back in his seat and watched. In the quiet, he looked at the screen and watched his old friend's face. Even he had been surprised at the revelation that Bruce Wayne was the infamous Dark Knight. The man had seemed to care about nothing save himself and his own company when they were growing up. Still, it was hard to make up judgments of anyone. Of all the people in the world, Oliver knew people could surprise you.

Chloe was proof enough.

Bruce Wayne had touched her unnecessarily too many times that Oliver knew immediately how he would wrap up the night. Oliver wished he could see Chloe's face.

"I have a room booked."

"The penthouse?" Chloe replied. She knew full well it was Wayne reserved there. Oliver had tried to move them to the penthouse instead of the corner room they shared, but Gotham's resident billionaire had already blocked it off.

"Nothing but the best," Wayne answered, as cocky and smooth as he always was. Oliver liked to think that Wayne got the attitude from him. Wayne had always been a little too somber in school.

He remained silent, curious about how Chloe would handle the offer. He had intended to remain silent for longer. Instead, he could not help but remind her, "No chance that information you need is in a penthouse reserved overnight."

"I don't do that," Chloe said softly. She shook her head. "I don't know what kind of women you meet here in Gotham, Mr Wayne, but where I come from we tend to stay out of men's hotel suites the day we meet."

The curve of his lips came slowly, but it stretched well enough that Oliver knew they had not lost him. With grudging respect, Wayne said, "How about lunch at the manor?" Chloe must have appeared about to decline. "My butler is there, as well as his niece. Nothing inappropriate, I assure you."

They spoke easily, Oliver considered. When the screen started to weave, and he realized that Bruce Wayne had taken her to the dance floor, he frowned. Wayne's expensive suit was too close to the camera, and told him tales about their proximity. It was well before the end of the night.

"Say goodnight."

He felt her hesitate.

"You want him to think he needs more, that he's not ready to let you go," Oliver said firmly. "Trust me." He almost laughed at those words. Trust did not have a place between them anymore. "Say goodnight now, and I swear you'll have him in the palm of your hand."

Seconds later, Oliver watched as the space widened between them and knew she had pulled away. "I should head on home," she said.

If he were in Wayne's place, Oliver wondered how he would have survived.

She turned away. He could tell. And then the camera jarred and suddenly she was facing Bruce Wayne.

"Give me your number," came the abrupt request.

And she stated it quietly. Wayne nodded. Oliver knew the closet nerd had already memorized it.

Oliver met her back in their room. He began the file transfer to the laptop in case there were scenes from the night he needed to replay. He was already going to go back to shots of the ball that the camera had captured in hopes of identifying a familiar face. He looked towards her when she crawled on the bed fully clothed and toed the shoes off.

He recognized the stiletto sandals that now rested on top of the duvet by her feet.

"I thought you already got rid of those."

He was oddly comforted by the fact that she knew immediately what he was talking about, without needing to open her eyes or ask him a question. She responded, "They're twenty two hundred dollars."

"You said they kill your feet." Oliver closed the laptop and walked over to her, then found himself sitting at the foot of the bed. He picked up the painful shoes and tossed them over to the garbage basket. And then he picked up one foot and placed his thumb on the arch and pressed. She gasped. Oliver's eyes met hers when she opened them and looked at him in surprise.

The first time she had complained about the shoes had been after the first time they visited the opera, out in Star City. She had been reluctant to tell him until he saw her limp down the red carpeted staircase. When he forced her to sit a few steps above the landing so he could tend to her, and asked her why she did not speak up sooner, Chloe had shrugged and reasoned, "You gave them to me."

So apparently, all these months, she had come back and taken mementos and never bothered to leave him a note that she was fine.

"You know," he said, his voice taking on a rasp of discomfort, "one of these days you're going to be the death of me. Think about that. The Green Arrow brought down by his own Watchtower."

Her face took on a look of horror.

The ringing phone startled them. Chloe pulled her foot out of his grip. Oliver picked up the phone from her bag and handed it to her. He did not need to peek to know who it was. It had been apparent on Wayne's face earlier that he was not going to wait.

"Hello."

Oliver stood and returned to the laptop, then viewed the frozen shots one by one, his brows furrowed as he searched for any clue in the crowd.

"Tomorrow," he heard her. Oliver wanted to tell her to make him wait. "It doesn't really look good for me that I want to go tomorrow. Women are supposed to be coyer than this."

Oliver looked up in amazement. The tone of her voice, the levity of her statement. They were the perfect blend to show him that she knew what she was doing.

"I'll do you a favor, Mr Wayne." She paused. "I might just show up."

When she hung up the phone, Oliver stared at her. Chloe sat up on the bed and stared back at him. So Oliver spoke. "It's in the outskirts of Gotham. You're not going alone."

"That's why I have a partner," she answered. And then, he thought he imagined it at first, until it became a full smile. "At least with you, I wouldn't ever have to worry. You come running to save me even when there's nothing wrong."

Oliver felt his breathing ease.

"I know you have better things to do than sit back and let me get killed."

So he let himself grin. At least for that moment, he could forget what she had turned into. Right then, they were coming home from a tiring day and his ridiculously expensive gift had murdered her feet. Oliver leaned back in the chair in front of the computer and pretended it was five months ago.

"Did you just throw my shoes into the trash?" she exclaimed in disbelief, spotting the leather in the brown bin.

"They weren't comfortable," he answered.

"They were gorgeous!"

Oliver chuckled. "Get some sleep. You had a long day."

Chloe pulled herself up to her feet and headed towards the bathroom. "I'm getting my makeup off, and you should wash up before you go to bed. You sweated and dried up in that shirt." 

Oliver looked down at the large bed that they were going to share. She never did appreciate it much when he sweated in his leather suit and went to bed afterwards. Some things did not change at all.

Oliver pulled the shirt off his body. He would shower right after she stepped out of the bathroom. He walked over to the brandy decanter and poured himself a glass. Chloe stepped out of the bathroom in a nightgown and Oliver looked up to see her reflection in the mirror. She was staring at where his chest was reflected, looking at the puckered skin where Flag had electrocuted him.

"Courtesy of your commander," he said.

Chloe nodded. "He does have a unique style of inviting people."

And then he realized that she must have gone through the same process. He poured another glass and turned around, then handed it to her. Chloe accepted the drink. Her gaze did not move from the scar. Oliver held his breath when she reached out a hand to touch it with her fingertips.

God, he missed how tender her touch was.

"It's not a very cute scar, is it?" she said softly, referencing the talk they had about their pasts. And then, "Does it hurt?"

He shook his head. "It's more a pain memory than physical." Really. Her betrayal hurt far more than anything Flag had done. Her eyes fluttered to his eyes. Oliver watched as she tipped the glass to her lips, saw the way her throat moved as she swallowed the brandy. "So you're going to the manor tomorrow."

She nodded. "Your advice worked. No other explanation for him to just invite me to his home."

"Make no mistake, Chloe. You were gorgeous tonight. You would have had him wrapped around your little finger either way," he told her. He stared at the way traces of brandy still clung to her lips. "But I thought maybe," he said, "we should practice a few moves. I did say I'd teach you, didn't I?"

Slowly, she nodded. "You do know him better than I do."

"First, I have absolutely no complaints about the way you drink your brandy. Do it just like that." She flushed. Oliver continued, "And if you can blush the same way with him that you blush with me, it would drive him insane."

"Will it?" she said softly.

Oliver doubted she even knew what she was saying now. Chloe never did act around him. He could see the rapid pulse on her neck, knew this proximity affected her the way it did him. Just sex, she had told him. At least it brought them this close.

"He's going to give you port. He likes wine. Bruce is an old soul," Oliver continued. The words seemed senseless now. But he continued, "Drink it the way you drank the brandy." He ran his thumb across her bottom lip. "Let it stain your mouth just like this. He's going to want to do this."

Oliver leaned down and caught the brandy on her bottom lip. He almost groaned out loud when her arms wrapped around his bare shoulders. His tongue tasted her and then delved into her mouth. His own hands wrapped around her waist. The thin silk of her nightgown was almost imperceptible, and he swore it was her skin under his palm.

He lifted his lips from hers and muttered into her ear, "You feel exactly the same." Because she did. Her muscles yielded the same way, and she pressed up against him just as easily.

"I do," he thought he heard her whisper. Wondered what she meant.

Bruce Wayne fell from his head, and he lifted her up against him. Chloe wrapped her legs around his waist and pushed her lower body against his. She bit her lip, and Oliver reached between them and freed himself. His hand dove between them and he was surprised when the nightgown hiked and found her bare.

Oliver met her eyes. He felt her own hand reach between them and grasp his length.

"Just sex," she gasped. "Doesn't mean a thing."

Oliver felt his heart in his throat. Despite the words, he swore he knew her well enough now that he recognized that look in her eyes. Her lips moved to his neck, to the tense shoulders. Her kisses dropped to the myriad scars scattered on his chest, every one of which he received in the manic courses he took in his search for her.

He reached for her chin and tipped her face up. Her eyes swam in her own pool of lies.

So he looked at her and did not even attempt to hide. He walked with her clinging to him, until her back was to the mirror wall and he lied, "Doesn't mean a thing." But when he pushed inside of her, and she hissed and dug her fingers into his back, he held her gaze and showed her.

He pumped inside her, filled her, exploded inside her. Her legs slowly fell back and she was unsteady on her feet. He pressed her back onto the cool surface of the mirror, rested his head on top of hers as he caught his breath. And then she took his hands and pulled him with her. She pushed him back on the bed and Oliver did not say a word. And then she was in his arms, her leg thrown over his thighs and her head pillowed on his chest. Oliver said nothing when she pressed her lips against his neck and drifted off to sleep.

And she did not even mention that he was sweaty and sticky, and had not washed up after the assignment. Oliver moved to find a comfortable position, and her arms tightened around him.

The sunlight pouring in from the window and playing on his face woke him. Oliver blinked his eyes and found the bed beside him empty. He glanced at the clock. Ten. He sat up and heard the running water turn off. There was a breakfast tray, half-eaten. He pulled himself up and walked over to the tray, then grabbed a piece of toast.

The brandy decanter was uncapped on its shelf.

She stepped out of the bathroom, already dressed and made up. Chloe turned and glanced at herself in the mirror, then fixed her hair. Oliver swallowed at the memory of the night before. She was in a simple white cotton wrap around blouse and a brown high waisted pencil skirt.

"He called early to tell me we're driving down together. Thought it would be easier to meet him at the lobby than have to explain why there's a half naked guy in my hotel room—least of all a half naked Oliver Queen."

"What about back up?" he managed, the words falling from his mouth despite the utter uselessness of the question as opposed to what he really wanted to hear.

Chloe nodded to the food. "Get some breakfast. You're tired." She flushed, then averted her eyes. "Drive over afterwards. I know you got my back." She glanced back at the mirror and fidgeted with her blouse.

Oliver told her, "You look beautiful."

She gave his a half smile, then stepped out of the room.

tbc


	6. Chapter 6

**Within Enemy Lines**

by Catheryne (tennysonslady)  
Summary: Oliver joins the Suicide Squad in order to save Chloe Sullivan.  
Characters: Oliver, Chloe, JL, SS  
Pairing: Chlollie  
Rating: PG13

**AN: Thank you for your support. I love reading your thoughts on the story.**

**Part 6**

She forced thoughts of Oliver Queen from her mind. She throbbed still with the pleasant ache that came from another night with him. She had almost forgotten how it felt to be stretched full by a man, least of all someone she – loved, she admitted reluctantly to herself, the way she loved him. When Bruce Wayne called that morning, she had been hesitant to pull herself out of his arms.

Chloe had sat on that bedside for the longest moments, wasted time when she should have been drafting step by step how the interaction with Bruce Wayne would go. Instead, Chloe had looked down at him as he slept and traced her fingers around the scar on his chest. When she looked at the time and realized that she absolutely needed to go, Chloe allowed herself one moment to close her eyes.

This was for him. For Clark. For the League. For the JSA. This was for the host of heroes threatened by Flag and Waller.

Most of all, Chloe thought, this was for him. It started with Oliver. And with her, now, it would always end with Oliver.

Even now the friends she had made in the Squad would do anything to save Nemesis. Even now, to her surprise, that small tight group affected those beyond the thick lines that Flag had drawn between the criminals and the mercenaries, and those who worked for their own personal visions. She was nearing the takedown, nearing the day when she could breathe in relief and so confidently claim that the threat had been stabilized.

Chloe had no false hopes. When she decided to take this as her mission, she knew the end goal was clear. Eradicate the threat that was the Suicide Squad. Anything less was unacceptable. Anything more was selfish. As long as her heroes were safe, this would be considered a success.

Then again, Chloe had not thought he would come back to her life, never imaged for one second that he would be successful in finding her, never once considered that he would look so desperately that he would join the group he abhorred with such passion.

"You always did have a way of crapping all over my best-laid plans," she murmured. After all, she had once decided there was no place for some meaningful relationship in her life. And off he went with his bow and arrow and in between their perfectly synchronized heartbeats, in that infinite space between an inhale and an exhale, he made her fall in love.

And for a few minutes she let the walls fall down. Chloe leaned over and pressed a kiss on his jaw. In his sleep he breathed through his mouth and Chloe knew he was exhausted. She kissed the corner of his lips and to her surprise there was a sting in her eyes. Chloe blinked the tears away. There was no place for tears or emotion, not in the middle of an assignment. Her chest tightened, and she whispered so softly even she could hardly hear, "It's always gonna be you, Ollie."

The wall between them was up and strong by the time he woke up. And even then, when he complimented her, Chloe recognized how utterly impossible it would be to work with him. She was going to be the death of him, he told her. Instead, Chloe knew the truth was the opposite.

As she made her way down to the lobby to meet with Bruce Wayne, Chloe heard the beep from the private line that the Suicide Squad used. She accessed the message and typed in her code to download the message from the private tower dedicated for the black ops team.

'Safe, with JL assist. Thank Green.'

Her lips parted at the familiar signoff that appeared afterwards, indicating the message sender. Nemesis was secured and back with the team. And to her disbelief, they had the Justice League to thank for Nemesis' release. Her eyes dropped to the tracking bracelet around her wrist. Of course. Oliver had suspected a link between her and Nemesis. Of course Oliver would have instructed his own team to work with the Suicide Squad. She would not put it past him.

'Tiger and Shade back on 1109.' As a code for the plan, it worked. She and Nemesis had booked that room number, and Nightshade had thrown a cloak around the room to ensure their planning was private, in enough interdimensional cover that no one else outside the room would hear. The Bronze Tiger had been the one to christen the plan with its numerical code. And then, as an afterthought, the next line appeared. 'Deadshot too, contingent on a deal with you.'

Soon she would need to find a way to ensure that once Oliver was free from the Squad he would find Zoe and ensure that she was safe and cared for.

Her heart swelled. With Nemesis, Tiger, Nightshade and Deadshot, maybe this would not be as hard as she thought. Maybe there was a chance that after all this she was going to survive. She had a team of her own now, ready to work with her to take down the Squad.

She sent back the simple message, 'Game on.'

Her steps were lighter, quicker, when she crossed the lobby to meet with Bruce Wayne. The quicker they wrapped this up, the faster Chloe could get to the business at hand. Her team was complete again, and soon the Squad would fall.

"It's cold out," Bruce said to her.

Chloe looked out the glass doors in surprise. "I didn't know it was going to snow today." The weather had been nice and warm the night before. She hoped Oliver bundled up enough before venturing outside to follow.

"It's a cold snap," Bruce informed her. When his dark eyes roamed her body, Chloe felt her skin tingle with warmth. Somehow it did not feel right, to have someone look at her so openly. It was ridiculous. Odd to think that she would feel so uncomfortable when this was the plan all along. She thought back to Oliver, to what he would have instructed.

There was no wine, but Chloe surreptitiously wet her lips. "Maybe I should make the quick trip up to my room and grab something warmer."

"My car can warm you up," he offered. And then he said, "Besides, the manor is hot enough, and there are plenty of coats you can use."

Chloe saw the waiting car up front, then nodded. Bruce wrapped his hand around hers.

"Are you driving, Mr Wayne?" she asked. She had always seen Bruce Wayne with a driver.

"When we're in the city it's easier to be dropped off or picked up in places. Saves a ton of time from looking for a parking slot myself," he told her. They walked outside and Chloe felt the bite of the freezing wind. Bruce opened the door for her and she climbed in, grateful for the heat. Bruce walked around the car and took the driver's seat. "Trust me, there's no lack of space where we're going."

Outside her window the world outside was a stark white. The farther they were from the city limits the snow was thicker and harder. Chloe shivered inside Bruce Wayne's car. Wordlessly, Bruce reached forward and cranked up the heater. She threw him a grateful smile and looked outside.

"It's hard to be miserable when it's so beautiful out."

Chloe glanced at her companion and nodded. There was a certain art to the falling snow. But they were in his comfortable car protected by the machine-generated heat. It was hard to keep misery away in complete exposure.

She wondered if Oliver had ventured out yet. If he had, Chloe hoped he was not on a bike or in his sleeveless costume. His arms, his beautiful arms, would be cut and sore from the biting wind.

If their lives were simpler she would have taken Oliver with her to a retreat in the mountains, and they could curl in front of a fireplace, bundled together sharing hot chocolate.

"A dollar for your thoughts," she heard him say. "I'd buy stocks in whatever is in your head that makes you smile like that."

Chloe looked in surprise. She had not realized how utterly transparent she had become. That was a mistake in deep cover. She had been misstep after misstep after Oliver joined the squad. First, to give Oliver so much ammunition that he would stay and nurture false hopes, and now to allow Bruce Wayne to catch a stray smile.

"I was thinking of a fireplace. It would be lovely right now."

Bruce nodded. Chloe took a deep breath and released it slowly. The man was inscrutable. For the first time in the many undercover missions she had done, she was nervous. For the first time, she was desperate for the sound of her partner's voice.

"Where are we now?" she asked. They were far enough from the city that there were no longer establishments lining the road. Instead, it was just a field of snow. Chloe looked ahead and found no sign of life within sight.

"Far enough." The car slowed and parked to the side of the road.

She stared wide-eyed at the profile of the man in the driver's seat. Chloe's heart thundered in her chest. Did she make the ultimate mistake, finally?

In the car, Bruce turned to her. Chloe's heart jumped to her throat at the sight of the dull, emotionless dark eyes. "I know you're lying," Bruce began. Chloe frowned, prepared to deny the accusation. "You're hiding something."

"Aren't we all, Mr Wayne?" she returned softly. "What is it that you want to know? I'll gladly tell you."

And then Bruce Wayne scowled. "Don't play me," he warned. "I'm everything they say I am."

Dark Knight. Vigilante. "Hero," she said. His eyes narrowed. Chloe forced a smile on her face. "I know that you're the Batman. And I came here to save you," she rushed.

The small space of the car sparked with the revelation in the air. Bruce Wayne moved quickly, almost as quickly as Oliver could. Chloe felt the pain in her scalp when Wayne grabbed a fistful of her hair and pulled her head back. Chloe's eyes filled with involuntary tears. "Do you think I'm new at this game?" he hissed. "I caught a glimpse of you outside the ball, in that balcony."

Chloe was filled with panic, wondering if he had seen Oliver's face.

"I looked him up," he said in his low voice, right near her ear. "Stupid mistake, Chloe. Deadshot is notorious in Gotham City. And I know that he's part of the Suicide Squad."

And there was his reason for pursuing her. It was a confirmation of what Waller was afraid of. The Batman knew too much about the black ops team, knew too much of something that did not exist.

"You don't understand," she hissed. "I'm not Suicide Squad!"

The grip on her hair loosened. "Then why are you here?"

Chloe swallowed. "I'm here to tell you to stop researching them. If you don't, Waller will reveal your identity to the world!"

Bruce bared his teeth. "Sounds like some warning from Waller's mouth herself. That tells me you're part of that team."

"I'm just here to watch out for you," Chloe insisted.

"That's noble of you," Bruce told her. "I have another plan. This might send the message better to the Suicide Squad than my simply stopping at their request." He moved forward.

Chloe's eyes widened. She grabbed her bag. Stupid. Stupid. One night with Oliver and already she had mucked up the mission. She should have put the comm. link on and activated it even before she reached Bruce. But she had hesitated because she did not know if she needed to take a call from Nemesis, and she had not wanted Oliver to hear about the plan. Chloe reached inside her bag.

His hand clamped around her wrist. "Calling for help?"

"Let me go," she whispered. Her blood pumped in her head.

"Exactly."

Bruce stepped out of the car in the freezing cold. She quickly raised the comm. link to her mouth and said, "Ollie, I need you!"

When he opened the door to her side, Chloe felt the ice bite at her bare legs and arms. He dragged her out of the car. Her shoes made track marks in the snow, but they were quickly covered by the onslaught of the weather.

"Stop it," she demanded, her teeth chattering. "All I'm trying to do is protect you!"

The dark gaze he threw to her was filled with disdain and distrust. It was almost the same look that Oliver gave her when he first found her working for the Squad. But despite his distrust Oliver's actions and words were always tempered by the fact that he was in love with her. Bruce Wayne had no such qualms.

"You don't know how many women who look just as innocent as you do have used that line with me!" he said, his voice cutting through the cold wind.

But he had seen her with Deadshot, and that was more concrete than blind faith. He threw her down into a mound of ice. Chloe hit the packed snow with her back and cried out.

"Time to get with the program, Chloe," he spat. Chloe's mind was numbed by the cold and the pain. The snow fell over her body and blanketed her. She tried to move, but found her body unwilling. "Where's the mutation that's bound to spring up and send me flying through the air?" he demanded.

Her eyes grew heavy as her body slowly grew cold and numb.

Her vision of him darkened. She could feel her lungs filling with cold air. Bruce Wayne stood there, waiting it seemed. What was he waiting for, she wondered. Maybe he was going to watch her die. She was exhausted, sleepy. She turned her head just a little and realized she was lying on pink slow.

That was so… feminine. So pretty. But in the car the snow looked so white and pure. Belatedly she realized that it was her blood turning the snow pink. There had been a sting on her scalp that just numbed itself.

When her vision was becoming so dark, it was easy to imagine that the silhouette she saw was that of the elusive Batman himself. He turned on his heel and walked back to his car.

Dumped on a first date and thrown at the curb, she realized. Literally. Chloe turned her head and looked up above her and wondered if someone could fly through the sky someday. Maybe if they did they would find her here abandoned and dead.

It had taken a long time, she thought. She was sure she was already climbing brilliant golden steps when she felt herself shaken awake. Chloe opened her eyes and saw the same dark eyes.

"You came back," she murmured.

His hands were all over her, just like Waller wanted. But this was not the plan that she had laid out. She had not even known it would snow, let alone that Bruce Wayne would be brushing a few inches of snow off her body.

"Let's say I got bullied into coming back." He paused. "Don't tell me they sent a human to take care of this job?" he said. "I'm insulted that I don't even warrant a freak."

"Oh I'm a freak," Chloe choked out. Was it her imagination, or was it just because her lips were frozen. Her breath was unbearably hot coming from her cracked throat.

"What's your freak power, supervillain?" he asked. And then she was a little warmer because he had picked her up from the snow and was carrying her with him. Chloe dreamed of the warmth of his nice expensive car, because it came so close to the comfort of Ollie's. "Can you fry me with your eyes?"

"I used to heal people," she admitted. Her throat was so painful. And now that she had been warmed just a little by his body, Chloe started to shiver even more in comparison. "And I'm superintelligent."

"That is a pathetic power for a villain," she felt the rumble from his chest.

She didn't care. Chloe felt the painful nerves in her body scream in her head. "I'm not a villain." She gasped, barely able to catch her breath.

"So he says."

And then she felt another pair of arms reach for her and grasp her tightly. She burrowed deep into the warmth. "Ollie," she breathed, even though she could not see. She was going to die out there, and it was only Oliver who would come just in time.

"That's right. It's me, Chloe. It's me." His words came in a rush, came in a breath. "I've got your back."

She was educated enough on hypothermia, and then she recognized how odd it felt to breathe. His lips were hot against her throat, and she realized his skin was wet. She had never seen it before, but now she acknowledged that she hated it when he cried. Her lungs were cold. Her back was painful. And she was sure when she was warm enough her head would bleed again.

If something happened, Chloe had faith that her partner and her friends from the Squad would continue 1109. Oliver could not be caught in the crossfire.

She forced her eyes open. His face swam above her. But sleep dragged her eyelids shut. "Nemesis—" she breathed.

And then she felt his lips on the outer shell of her ear, remembered that he knew nothing about the rescue. "Don't go with him," he whispered to her. "Tell him you're not coming, Chloe. Stay with me. Stay here in the cold, Chloe. I'll keep you warm."

"Don't let her go to sleep," came the quiet instruction.

And it was warm, and Chloe felt herself held tight. She was bundled in blankets and even then her teeth chattered. "Stay awake. Come on, open your eyes."

"Keep her awake," came Bruce's voice. "She might have a concussion."

"Shut up," she heard Oliver hiss. His voice gentled and his lips played on her ear again. "Come on, Chloe. Open your eyes. I promise we'll kick his ass like the great team we are. Wake up, Chloe."

And she tried. She really did. When Oliver begged and pleaded so wonderfully, she had no choice but to listen. But the cold and the pain pulled at her. She whispered a broken, "Sorry."

"It's okay. I know you'll wake up for me." And so softly, only for her, he said, "Because whether you admit it or not—you love me."

tbc


	7. Chapter 7

**Within Enemy Lines**

by Catheryne (tennysonslady)  
Summary: Oliver joins the Suicide Squad in order to save Chloe Sullivan.  
Characters: Oliver, Chloe, JL, SS  
Pairing: Chlollie  
Rating: PG13

**Part 7**

She lay on her side on top of the dark sheets. There was a sharp contrast between her pallor and the black silk on the guest bedroom's coverlet. Almost instantly the black silk darkened further her clothing wet the sheets.

"There are dry clothes in the closet," came Bruce's offer.

Oliver's hand fisted at his side. It was a good thing Bruce remained at the threshold of the bedroom. He turned around and selected a nightgown. He did not need to ask why there was women's clothing readily available in the Wayne guest bedroom. That detail he did not need to know. What mattered was that she needed to be dry and comfortable before the doctor arrived. He returned to the bed and then quietly said, "Get out. I'll talk to you when I'm done."

Oliver did not need to look up to know that the man obliged. As young men they had found a unique friendship founded by similarities that overshadowed how different their personalities were. Despite the rarity of their interactions as they grew into adulthood, they would always revert to the mutual respect they had before earned.

Her moist clothes were cold against his skin. Her hair had grown limp and damp as they stuck to her cheeks. "Chloe," he tried again, knowing he was not going to wake her like he wanted.

Her breathing was harsh, labored, audible. When Oliver peeled away the blouse that he had admired that morning, she shivered. The nearly still air in the bedroom would still be insufferable.

"I'm sorry," he murmured. Her lips were nearly blue so he worked quickly and changed her clothes. Afterwards he pulled up the thick duvet, black like the sheets, and tucked it at her sides.

There was a courtesy knock on the door. Oliver turned and saw an elderly man nod at him. At closer inspection, he realized it was Alfred. The butler, whom he had seen once or twice at Excelsior, was loyal enough to have remained with Bruce up to this time.

"Master Oliver," Alfred said. Despite his own anxiety, Oliver managed to give a small smile. The man sounded and moved exactly the same way, like he was an artifact caught forever in stasis. "The doctor will see to your guest now."

"And this doctor will keep this confidential?" he inquired.

"Of course, Master Oliver."

As hard as it was to tear himself from her side, Oliver left her in the care of the doctor who stepped into the room. There was another business he had itched to take care of since he had crashed into Bruce Wayne's home office about two hours before. Oliver stalked through the corridors and found Bruce Wayne in the wide salon, standing in front of the fireplace.

"I was wondering when you were going to march in here," Wayne greeted, nodding towards the bottle of wine sitting on the mantle. "There's port. Although I hear you prefer scotch these days."

Oliver refused to take the bait. He narrowed his eyes at Bruce. "You almost got her killed," was the simple, quiet accusation. The bastard had abandoned her in the snow and was going to let her die. When Oliver crashed into the glass walls of Wayne's study, the man had been sitting prettily behind his desk, using his computer.

"I'm living my life," Wayne returned. "I'm protecting myself."

"She could have died out there!"

"You're merely repeating your point. I think you've hammered the nail well and good." Wayne tipped the wine glass and finished the contents, then placed the glass on the mantle. "But I see that discussion won't do us any good." Wayne walked forward so that they were only a few feet apart. "You're practically bubbling over."

Oliver shook his head. "You don't even regret it, do you?"

"You're not going to function or make a lot of sense until you get something off your chest," Wayne told him. Oliver cursed. This was an old, old friend, a man he had known well before the time he had been trapped on that island. Worst of all, the man was so fucking rational even as a teenager that Oliver had always wanted to leave him out of drinking games. Wayne extended his arms out in a defenceless pose.

"What the hell are you doing?" Oliver breathed, managing his temper as much as he could.

Bruce cocked his head to the side. "Get it over with, Queen. We both know if you need to lash out."

"Fuck you," Oliver cursed. He had not cursed for a while, but facing Bruce brought him back to an adolescent phase and he really needed that release. "If I hit you it's not because I need to lash out. It's because you deserve it for putting her in danger, you bastard."

Wayne grinned. It was annoying, and Oliver still remembered how vulnerable she looked when he left her in the room. Within a split second his fist shot up and slammed into Bruce's chin. Bruce stumbled back at the hit that had such unexpected force, and he hit the floor hard. Oliver watched as Bruce pulled himself up and shook his head, then opened and closed his mouth as he tested his jaw.

"Better?" Bruce asked. Oliver watched the blood bloom on the cut on his lip. That definitely made it better. He extended a hand and helped him to his feet. Bruce sighed. "You're lucky you're born rich."

"This coming from you?" Oliver pointed out the hypocrisy. Wayne, Queen and Luthor—only sons and empire heirs all in Excelsior the same year made been some epic part of the school's history. He doubted Bruce forgot. "We were just the same."

"No," Bruce continued. Oliver followed the man with his gaze when he returned to the mantle and poured himself another glass of port. Bruce dapped his handkerchief on the blood on his cut lip, then drank more wine. "You're lucky you're born rich. You don't have the instincts that others have. Lex had enough cunning to build himself an empire when everything was taken from him. I set up my own businesses to expand Wayne Enterprises." He paused. "You simply set up charities and maintain QI."

And then, unspoken between them, now that they both knew Bruce's secret identity, was what Wayne apparently thought was the stupidest move that Oliver had made—coming out.

"We live in the shadows," Bruce said. "At least, that's how it's supposed to be."

Oliver shrugged. "Maybe we're just that different."

"I'm saying that you don't have the same instincts necessary to survive what we do—whether it's business or our other hobbies." Bruce offered Oliver some wine. This time, Oliver took the goblet. "You don't even see that she's lying. I saw it the first moment she smiled at me." Bruce turned his dark eyes at him. Oliver immediately felt stifled, as if he were studying him. "Maybe it's because she has you wrapped around her little finger."

"All she wants is to keep me safe," Oliver said. And he had no proof. Nothing save assumptions he drew when he looked into her eyes. "You too—although you don't deserve to be helped. Not after what you did."

"And I say—" Bruce began. Oliver downed the wine. "There is no much she's not telling you, Queen." Bruce chuckled. "I can't believe you honestly expected me to take you at your word when you're so obviously in love with her."

Oliver shook his head. "I've never tried to hide it."

"You have blinders on when it comes to her. Believe it or not, she is hiding something from you. And I hope it doesn't get you killed." 

The conversation was fodder for thought as he made his way back to the guestroom where he had left Chloe. He made it to the room just as Alfred and the doctor made their way out. He listened intently when the doctor told him that the head trauma was a surface wound that had been cleaned and bandaged, but would heal before he knew it. She had a fever from exposure that should break in the night. Oliver's shoulders relaxed when he entered the room. He walked over and sat at her bedside.

The bedside table had the medicine that she had been given, and instructions to take more every four hours. Beside it were Chloe's earrings, the ones she had put on before she left for what was supposedly her date with Bruce Wayne. Oliver glanced at the bracelet and found it odd that the doctor had not removed them if he removed her earrings anyway. Oliver reached for her wrist and studied the dainty bracelet, and was confounded by the workmanship. He could not find the hook or the clasp.

He sighed. He had not slept well all the months she had been gone, and when he finally found her he still was unable to get ample rest until just last night when they were together. Oliver climbed into the bed behind her and gingerly positioned himself so that his entire body was pressed up at her back. He wrapped his arms around her to make sure she was warm enough. He dropped a kiss at her nape and closed his eyes.

Just like the morning before, when Oliver woke she was gone. It was still dark out. He glanced at his watch and saw that it was a little past three in the morning. He sat up on the bed and looked around the bedroom to find it empty.

Wayne!

Bruce Wayne did not trust her, and he did not trust Bruce Wayne around her. He hurriedly made his way out of the bedroom and walked through the corridors to find her.

"All you need to know is that there's a purpose behind all of this," he heard her voice from the kitchen. His knees weakened in relief at the sound. "And I don't care that you don't believe a word that I say."

"I find it difficult to believe in a purpose that isn't clearly stated," rumbled Wayne's voice. "If you have a purpose, say it. That way people don't look at you like a criminal."

Chloe huffed. "My methods are far more legal than yours, Batman. Between you and me, you are the one that's verging on unlawful."

"So," Bruce said, still oblivious to Oliver's presence outside the kitchen, "so far we have discussed that you are indeed working with the Suicide Squad."

"The black ops government team," Chloe agreed. "And I haven't killed anyone," she pointed out. And then, Oliver thought playfully enough she added, "Yet."

"I knew you were hiding something."

"I'm protecting people like you. Whatever it takes."

Oliver watched as Bruce poured a cup of coffee from the sophisticated coffeemaker and pushed the cup towards Chloe.

"I find it hard to believe that a young woman like you will sacrifice everything for a roster of heroes she hasn't even met," Bruce said. "I can see it on your face. You didn't walk into the Suicide Squad's headquarters just because they threatened me."

Chloe's gaze darted from Bruce Wayne's face to the cup of coffee she held in her hands. She sipped at the coffee. "No," she admitted. "I wouldn't have sacrificed myself for a stranger." Chloe sat back in her seat. "I joined the Squad because it was the only way I could keep him safe."

"Oliver Queen," Bruce deduced.

"It doesn't diminish the value that I've placed on every one of the heroes I live to protect," Chloe added. "But yes. It was a decision I made for Oliver."

In that precise minute Oliver forgave Bruce Wayne for every bit off sin he committed and would ever commit in his lifetime. His brain worked overtime, processing the information. His heart kicked in his chest, willing him to act double time.

"So it began with Oliver. How does it end?"

Chloe licked her lips. "I have a team of my own now, and we are in the perfect position to bring down the Squad." Her voice grew firm. From his vantage point Oliver saw Chloe reach for Bruce's hand. Bruce caught his eyes then forced himself to look back at Chloe. "You need to keep Oliver away."

Oliver held his breath. Bruce said, "If you're doing this for him, then why won't you tell him that? It would help if you were honest with him."

"Help whom?" she said softly. "This plan—it's the most insane plan we've ever made. Believe me, I've come up with dangerous plans all by myself when I was younger. But this plan involves members of a team that calls itself Suicide Squad. One of the men working with me has had a death wish for two decades." She smiled sadly. "I have someone with me who's the last survivor of a shadow world and a man who should have died years ago."

He kept himself from stepping into the kitchen, from breaking the conversation. This was the most he had learned about her life since she went missing, the most she had shared about what she felt.

Bruce asked, "What does that have to do with coming clean? Queen obviously loves you, even when he thought you turned your back on him."

"There is more chance than this plan won't work than there is that we will survive it. If it doesn't work, don't you think it's easier to move on from someone that betrayed you?" she asked softly.

Oliver rested back against the wall and closed his eyes.

Oliver heard the gentle way that Bruce Wayne changed the topic of conversation. Chloe slowly allowed herself to be drawn by the distraction. Oliver took a deep breath and decided against joining the two of them. Instead he made his way back up to the guest bedroom and entered the adjoining bathroom. He splashed cold water on his face.

Oliver looked at himself in the mirror. Even though he had been able to help her change into dry clothes, he himself had worn the wet clothes until it dried. There was a patch of mud and the stain of her blood on his arm. He turned on the shower and managed the temperature so that the water almost scalded him when he stepped under it.

The barrelling water made him sigh. He needed the punishment, needed to feel the stinging pain. He raised his face to the water spray and let the water sluice down his chest, travel to every dip of his body, wash the grime and the blood and the memory, hoping it would clear his head.

He felt a rush of cool air when the door opened. And then, Oliver sucked in his breath at the sensation of a cool hand on his stomach. His gut clenched. He turned his head and found her standing with him in the shower, looking up at him uncertainly.

He flung the accusation at her, his voice quiet, determined. "I know you love me."

And her eyes pleaded with him at her answer, "I don't." And her lips gingerly closed over the scar on his chest. The shower rained down them and Oliver watched as her arms wrapped around his waist. He turned around and took her by her shoulders. She made a sound in her throat and she raised her wet face up to him. "I need you to believe me. I don't love you."

And he forced himself to give her a curt nod. They both knew he lied when he answered, "Okay."

But it did not matter. His hands now made its way from her shoulders down her arms and back up again. His lips travelled to her neck. The arms around his waist rose to cling to his neck. Oliver felt himself rise. Her eyes lifted to his when she felt him as well. Oliver's hands rested beneath her hips. He lifted her up against him and rested her back against the wall. Her legs rose and hiked around him. Oliver reached between them and positioned himself at her entrance.

The water was hot, beating away the cold knots and the cuts from the snow. He slowly entered her, inch by inch. Chloe's throat worked as she struggled to keep breathing while he pushed himself inside her. He laid his face in the crook of her neck and then slowly moved in and out of her.

"I missed this so much," she said into his ear.

"I missed you," he told her.

And then their mouths were fused together, their lips locked in a way that synchronized their breathing. She held onto him tightly even when he laid her down on the tiled floor of the shower. She cried out when he left her body. When Oliver lowered himself over her, he felt the warm beat of the water down his back. He looked down at her and kept himself from the words that would upset her, that would render her efforts futile, but hell if he was not going to show her. He kissed her ankle, up her calves to her inner thighs and finally, he kissed her lower lips. Oliver's lips played on her belly and his tongue wrapped around one nipple. When he hovered above her, and her hips pushed up seeking him, he looked down at her, dripping with water from the shower so much it seemed like he had curtained off the rest of the world.

"Let me in," he asked, and he knew she was intelligent enough to know what he meant.

Chloe nodded, holding tightly to him and he surged inside her. She moved underneath him with such frenetic energy his throat closed. Never had she been as desperate, never as open about her need. His muscles clamped around him to tautly he swore her body was saying goodbye. In return, Oliver poured every bit of him inside of her, leaving nothing, until he was exhausted and spent above her.

And she said she didn't love him.

Afterwards, when he carried her back to the bedroom, the two of them soaked the bed. But Oliver pulled the duvet over them and he held tightly to her as she rested against his body.

"The Justice League helped free Nemesis," she whispered as her fingers trailed around the scar. Chloe kissed it again.

Oliver wondered at her fascination, until he realized he had received it after he was captured during her watch. He kissed the top of her head. "When I used my credit card to get you the dress, I alerted Tess outside any mode of communication that Flag would track. That's how Tess knew to send Impulse."

"Okay," she whispered.

Oliver tightened his arms around her. "Talk to me."

Chloe raised herself up on her elbows. Oliver marvelled at the flush on her cheeks. The fever had broken long before, and the shower would have done her well. "I will if you promise to do me a favour."

His words were simple enough, and he made sure it communicated more than mere syllables could. "I'll do anything for you."

"Except leave," she said with a sad smile.

Most of all that was what she wanted. And now he knew exactly why. "Except leave you," he agreed.

At his words, Oliver saw her mind work. And then Chloe nodded. "Then I'll tell you about 1109," she said. And as she spoke, Oliver finally recognized what it was that Wayne had been talking about. There was a shadow, a curtain, a corner of her eyes that was dark when she spoke. He recognized precisely at that minute that she was hiding something. "First I need you to promise me that when you get back to Star City, you will look up a five year old girl named Zoe, who was part of the system until a few months ago. You have to promise to make sure she's safe."

He did not need to ask a question. "I promise."

She smiled. "In that case, I'll let you and Bruce join my team," she said. "You asked me to let you in," she said softly. He nodded. "You can help bring down the Suicide Squad. Full disclosure."

Bull crap. Oliver could see it in her eyes, exactly how Bruce had described her secrets. She was going to filter the entire operation. He just needed to figure out how.

"Tomorrow, you meet the rest of the team," she said. "It's time."

But it was farther than he had hoped to make. For that, at least, Oliver was grateful. "Sounds like a busy day tomorrow," he said. Oliver held her and relished the memory of how she felt in his arms, back there in that shower. And in bed… he was going to remember tonight. She held tightly to him and he knew whatever was going down, it was going to be the end. "Get some rest. You're going to need it."

tbc


	8. Chapter 8

**Within Enemy Lines**

by Catheryne (tennysonslady)  
Summary: Oliver joins the Suicide Squad in order to save Chloe Sullivan.  
Characters: Oliver, Chloe, JL, SS  
Pairing: Chlollie  
Rating: PG13

AN: You lovely people warm my heart. I will be out of town until Friday night, so I will not be able to work on the next part until then. But please leave your comments for this one. I appreciate all your support.

**Part 8**

Their bodies cooled from the hot shower, and even naked and wet she was warmer than she had been for so long. In the darkness of dawn as they lay wrapped around each other in that bed Chloe thought to herself how amazing it was to have been given this gift. If this was the very last time, she was going to cherish every second.

She had done everything right, gained respect from a team who would have killed her a split second when she met them. She had worked from the sidelines, in the shadows, huddled in the cold far from Oliver when all she had wanted to do was run to him.

Chloe Sullivan had lived her life, had fulfilled the purpose she was certain she had always been meant for. She had been born to guide one hero, to see Clark fly, and she was going to die ensuring the whole world had hundreds safe from the malicious reach of the soulless who ran the Suicide Squad.

All in all, it was not a bad job at all.

She burrowed deeper in his arms, and for a brief moment she allowed herself that tiny bit of selfishness and nuzzled the tip of her nose against his bare chest. He smelled familiar. They said in death the last sense to leave was smell. She swore in the gunpowder and smoke and the fire all she would breathe was the soap on his skin.

He would not leave her. Oliver Queen was just as stubborn as she was. She couldn't fault him for that.

There was only way she could ensure that she would control the outcome of the mission. There was only one way to keep Oliver away.

Keep him close. And then at the very end—

Chloe rested her chin on his chest. She nodded. She would remember his eyes. When he looked at her, she was so certain he loved her. In the darkness, in the bedroom, when it was just the two of them, there was no denying he loved her. "Then I'll tell you about 1109," she told him. In that hotel room when she and Nemesis had spun and woven the mission into the intricate simplicity that it had, Chloe had not once considered that she would fail so miserably that she was going to have to bring him into it. But the design was so straightforward she could so easily place him where she wanted.

She continued, because she owed those who were willing to step outside their lives to contribute to her goal, "First I need you to promise me that when you get back to Star City, you will look up a five year old girl named Zoe, who was part of the system until a few months ago. You have to promise to make sure she's safe."

Chloe had expected questions—a dozen of them. Here was a favour that would require time. All she saw was a quiet struggle he had tempered at the thought of going home alone. But he said, "I promise." Chloe did not doubt him.

Everything was falling into place. She smiled. His hand rested on the small of her back and he pulled her up, closer, her bare breasts pressing against his chest as her mouth captured his. She breathed, she sighed, "In that case," she told him carefully, assessing the implications that would need to be shared with the others, "I'll let you and Bruce join my team."

He looked at her, as if he did not fully believe her. Chloe knew his place in that assignment depended fully in his willingness to adhere to her instructions. "You asked me to let you in," she reminded him. Ever the mission-critical player that he was, Oliver nodded. "You can help bring down the Suicide Squad." At her words, his jaw clenched. And she admitted what he had suspected all along. If she gave him this, then maybe he would trust her. She swore, "Full disclosure."

He licked his lips. Her gaze fell to his moist lips. Her throat tightened suddenly.

Just a few hours left.

And then no more.

"Tomorrow, you meet the rest of the team." And she knew that it was over. Very soon, it would be over. The hair on her arms tingled. And suddenly she needed him, closer, better, more. More and more. And it was as close to goodbye as she could manage when she said to him, "It's time."

"Sounds like a busy day tomorrow."

She heard him; she could not even understand the words. The sound was there, but no meaning penetrated her fogged brain. There was hours left. Mere hours.

"Get some rest. You're going to need it."

There was time enough in the daylight to turn him around, to find a way to gain the hate that would allow him to survive. When the sun was up, when the end was imminent, she would think of a way. There was, after all, always a way.

She took a breath, held his gaze for the longest time. And then, almost like he knew the moment her mind turned, his lips parted in realization. He rose on his elbows and Chloe felt his hands grasp her face, so fully and tightly that he blocked out all the sounds of the world outside.

She could hear the catch in her throat, felt the rumble of his groan when he crushed her to him. Chloe knew enough when he sat on the bed with his back resting against the headboard. She knelt and pressed closer to him, and in the mess of tangled limbs she was astride him and sitting on lap.

"Ollie," she whispered, strangled with the knowledge of the future. Either way, she was not going to hide behind a name, a refusal to call him by the pet name that was synonymous now to a declaration of love because of how long it took her to admit it. "Ollie." Because when she said his name in just that way, she knew she was saying words she could not say before.

Chloe grasped his shoulders. His lips sought a way to her neck and she threw back her head. Her fingers dug into his back. A gasp escaped her when he bit her lobe and said again, pushing through her reservations, "I love you too."

He eased a hand between them, and another on her hip. With gentle guidance he lifted her hips and then gently prodded at her entrance. Chloe looked back down so she could hold his gaze. She breathed deep when she lowered herself. Her lips parted as he slowly stretched her.

She shook. She shook and she trembled. For a little while he tore his eyes from hers and looked down between them and Chloe wondered what it was he did not want to see. And yet as she moved over him he wrapped his arms around her and held tightly to her, and felt his mouth latch onto his skin, his nose pressed against her chest. She ground her hips down onto him and he pushed inside her and he pushed.

Like he was never letting go.

Afterwards, she lay on her back, spent and trembling from her release. Oliver nudged her legs gentle apart. Chloe caught her breath when he, still hard, entered her body while she was still wet. She heard his gasps as he spent himself, and he lay on top of her long afterwards.

"When all of this is done," he said into her ear, still over her, catching his breath while dropping kisses on her hair, "I want you to promise me—"

And she cut him off, "When all of this is done, we'll talk."

While there was darkness she would hold him. There was only so little left of it.

In the morning, the early light of day, Bruce Wayne drove them to the blanket of snow where he had abandoned her. Chloe found Oliver staring out into the field of snow, and when her gaze moved to the rear view mirror she was taken aback to find Bruce Wayne's dark eyes focused solely on her.

"We're here," Wayne declared.

Oliver was the first to step out of the car.

"And you're still keeping secrets. What else do you want from him?"

"I want him to stay alive."

Chloe ignored the judgment in Bruce Wayne's eyes and followed suit. Her boots hit the frozen ground, and she immediately shivered despite the layers she had already piled on.

"Memory pain," Oliver said, explaining away the cold the way he explained his scar. His arm wrapped around her shoulders and Chloe felt the brush of his lips against her cheek. "I'm right here," he told her to reassure her. Instead the statement merely multiplied her fear.

They came out from the white sheet of the falling snow, up above, in the steady noise of an approaching helicopter. The vehicle hovered above them. As they watched, out jumped the Bronze Tiger. From a leap of several feet high, Tiger hit the snow packed ground on his feet.

"Ben," Chloe greeted. Instinctively she stepped away from Oliver. When Ben looked up, so did she. A dark blue shadow hovered overhead, and Chloe sighed in relief as Nightshade floated down to the ground. Eve Eden was a key component to 1109, and Chloe wondered if she would even have the guts to attempt it if Nighshade had not signed up.

The helicopter landed several yards away. Chloe raised a hand to shield her eyes from the snow. She watched as two figures trudged their way towards them.

Behind her Bruce cursed at the sight of Deadshot making his way towards them.

"This is a trap, isn't it?" Bruce said sharply.

Chloe glanced at Bruce. "Believe me when I say that what Floyd will gain from helping us is more than what he could possibly get if he screwed with you."

And then, when Deadshot tipped his hat to her and moved aside, another man walked up front and center in a black turtleneck and jeans. "Rick Flag," Oliver said in recognition.

Chloe released a sigh of relief and ran forward, then wrapped her arms around the new arrival. The man in her arms chuckled, then very carefully peeled the mask from his face. "Nemesis." Chloe placed a hand on his arm and squeezed. She glanced at the bracelet around her wrist. The levity on his face vanished. Nemesis grasp her wrist and raised the bracelet up. The miniscule light reflected dimly against the black sleeve of his sweater. He shook his head.

She had not even dared to hope that he would find a way to release the lock on the bracelet, did not even dream of it all these months. Chloe cursed the weakness that crept over him the last few hours that made her even ask.

The greetings were curt, professional. The Squad knew the identity of Wayne, and Oliver Queen had long before removed his secret from the equation. Yet even then as Chloe introduced each of the members of the team, it was Tiger who folded his arms across his chest as asked, "I don't understand why they're part of the conversation at all."

"They're going to help," Chloe stressed. "Deadshot is on Flag."

"We know," responded Deadshot. "The plan hasn't changed in months. Do we really need a recap?"

"Listen to her," Tiger ordered.

"All of us are in Headquarters. Nightshade and Nemesis are on the bomb." It was Nightshade who produced a small tablet computer . Chloe pulled up the schematics of the building and held it out to them. As she pressed, red dots appeared on the location. "Set off at least half a dozen here and here. That is how we destroy Waller's database."

And then to Bruce and Oliver, Chloe dictated the key action, "You are going to release the prisoners working for the Squad—back into custody." And then, Chloe realized she had completely missed another thing. "Bette."

"Flag—at least my version of Flag—has sent her on a recon mission," offered Nemesis. "She would be long gone by the time we attack."

"There's a problem with your plan," Oliver claimed. Chloe looked back down at the tablet. Oliver claimed, "You shouldn't put me and Bruce in one group."

"Arrow and Tiger then," she instructed. Chloe threw a triumphant look at Bruce. "You and Deadshot."

Oliver's focus on her was unsettling. She felt far more naked under those layers than she ever did any other time. "What happens next?"

"It's done," Chloe managed easily.

"I don't believe that."

"You don't trust me? I'm still Watchtower you know, with a different team." Chloe turned pleading eyes to Nightshade. Out of them all, she was the final part of 1109. Nightshade, Nemesis and Tiger knew. She wondered if they had shared the entire plan to Deadshot. Still, out of them all, only Nightshade shared anything close to what she felt.

And then Oliver grasped her arm. "I'm missing something."

Nightshade placed a hand on his shoulder. "Let's worry about the parts of the plan that are tagged to us," she suggested. "In my experience, Mr Queen, that is the best way to survive."

"Before we go off, why don't you change into your suits," Chloe suggested. "And then find some time to built rapport with your partners. You know how important that is." And then Oliver brushed the whisper of a kiss on her cold eyebrow. In that moment, when he was closest to him, she forgot everything else but to breathe.

Store that scent memory. She would need it today.

When they had gone Chloe turned back and found Nightshade reading her. She swallowed, then said quietly, "I missed you, Eve. Thank you for bringing Nemesis back. Without him, I wouldn't have a chance to complete this."

"We can finish it if that's what you want," Nightshade told her. She looked towards the far end, in the direction of Oliver Queen. "Are you still okay with what we have planned?"

"You know what Nemesis said," Chloe reminded Nightshade. "No one knows how to take it off. This was a given from the very start."

In the beginning she did not know that she would balk at the thought of the sacrifice. In the beginning it was so much easier when he was not there. In the beginning she had no appreciation of everything she had to lose.

Those eyes that looked so very much in love.

It was the same way that Nightshade looked at Nemesis when she thought no one was watching. "Do you want out?" Chloe offered. Because as much as needed some semblance of hope, she was not going to take away from Tom the same thing she was taking from Oliver.

But Eve held her hand tightly and told her, "This is your one chance." Nemesis liked her. She was the only one of them all that still had a pure, unadulterated goal. "I'll risk it."

In the next hour, outside the Suicide Squad headquarters, the team was in position to take down Flag. Deadshot was on point. Chloe's heart raced. Oliver was on site, in hand to hand combat with anyone who attended to the trip in the security alarm when Deadshot set up his guns from his vantage.

This was a job easy enough for the Green Arrow.

Chloe heard Deadshot curse into the comm. link they had established among themselves. "The doctor is right between us." At the delay, Batman and Tiger made their way to the other side. It was Flag's wife, the Squad doctor. She had fixed Chloe once. Her first battle wound.

"I'm shooting through her."

Deadshot never missed. Even if he had to tear through another body, Deadshot always got his target.

Chloe heard the release of the arrow. She tore through the doors and found Oliver zipping through the line and grabbing the doctor a split second before the shot rang out. She froze in her tracks when the Green Arrow and the doctor collapsed onto the ground. Her heart was in her throat.

Green Arrow stood and dusted himself off.

"The chopper!" she called. The next phase was under way. She raised the radio and called to the HQ to prepare for them. Nemesis had already headed back, and Tiger was waiting at the chopper. She exited the area and saw the chopper ready for lift off. Nightshade held out her hand to her.

Chloe jumped on board and saw the look on Tiger's face. She glanced at the screen and saw Amanda Waller's face. Behind Waller, Chloe caught sight of Nemesis bound.

"Plan B," Tiger said.

Chloe turned wide eyes to Nightshade, who held out her hand. Chloe looked down at her wrist. The bracelet's miniscule light was brighter, faster, erratic now. "Get out, Ben!" she commanded. The Bronze Tiger nodded and leapt out of the chopper just as it lifted from the ground. Chloe pulled the control and continued the ascent.

And then Chloe gasped when she felt the weight. Nightshade took the control and Chloe stood at the edge of the chopper. They were only a few feet from the ground. Oliver hung on like a vise. Chloe grabbed the edge and yelled at him to let go. The bracelet around her wrist warmed.

"I'm not leaving," he gritted, "so pull me up."

"Why can't you understand what we were?" she insisted. Her eyes grew moist. His arms hurt him. And the bracelet was about to go. "Stop it," she hissed. "I don't—"

"You can't do this to me. Stop lying!"

Chloe closed her eyes, felt the tears spill. She rose to her feet and staggered towards Nightshade. This had to be done quickly. "Lower it," she whispered. And then she grabbed the gun from Nightshade's holster, then went back to the edge. She held onto the chopper with one hand, then levelled the gun with the other hand. Just a few seconds left.

And he was so close.

Chloe bit her bottom lip. "Those people like Lex—the ones you remember that are corrupted, and have no heart. I'm worse than they are. I don't love you at all." Her voice strengthened and she emphasized. To her own ears it sounded like a plea, "Remember that, Ollie."

She was trained enough by now that she could hit her target. Chloe refused to look at his eyes. If she saw them again, and he still looked at her the same way—

She pointed the gun at his shoulder.

But he was such a beautiful archer.

Chloe turned the gun down, where she was sure she would hit his leg as they bent to support him hanging from the chopper. Just a little lower. The light on the bracelet was almost steady now.

She pulled the trigger. Chloe would remember the cry of pain, and then she watched her grip loosen and he fell onto the ground, crumpled. Wayne was the first at his side. Deadshot looked up, and so did Tiger. She pressed the comm. link in her ear and said calmly, "It's not done. Get moving to Nemesis and finish what we started."

The chopper ascended as fast as it could. She hit the detonator on the passenger seat. Chloe turned and saw Nightshade throw out her arms and Chloe stepped into the embrace, squeezing her eyes shut. The explosion was deafening, white hot, and so bright.

Chloe wished so much it was dark again. Just like earlier before dawn broke. As the smoke rose, Chloe remembered the scent of soap on Oliver's skin.

tbc


	9. Chapter 9

**Within Enemy Lines**

by Catheryne (tennysonslady)  
Summary: Oliver joins the Suicide Squad in order to save Chloe Sullivan.  
Characters: Oliver, Chloe, JL, SS  
Pairing: Chlollie  
Rating: PG13

AN: I cannot finish it in Ollie's voice because there are things that cannot be told from his perspective. And I also decided not to make a sequel so I need to get out the entire story under this title. I hope that's okay.

**Part 9**

Oliver Queen believed in love. It would be hard to deny. He had fallen in love when he expected it least, and he fell so hard, so deeply, he had been willing to sacrifice the legend he had become.

Yes. He believed in love.

But above all else, Oliver believed in scotch.

For a few hundred dollars, the scotch healed pain. Memory pain, he thought. The scar on his chest registered memories of the sharp electric torture that Flag had caused. These days, there was that constant throbbing in his thigh where the doctors had pried out the bullet that she had left him as remembrance.

Memory pain. Worst of all was the pitiless pain right in the vicinity where his heart should have been, right there surrounding the rock that weighed heavy in his chest. The scotch served to dull the pain, but the memories held him still.

The memories possessed him in the night.

He still smelled the smoke, still remembered the blinding flames in the sky. Oliver could feel the heat of his own blood pulsing out of the burning fire where the bullet ripped the muscles of his thigh.

"Do you forgive me, Ollie?"

At the soft, cool touch of her hand on his stomach, Oliver refused to open his eyes. He answered, "Never."

And then her lips. Sweet and familiar. Painful in the way they brushed against lips he forced to be slack and unresponsive. He felt her breath on his face when she asked, "Do you still love me, Ollie?"

He swallowed. To survive he needed to lie. But there had been enough lies. He choked out the response—unwilling and ever so willingly, "I can't stop."

Those hands were chilly when she laid her palms over his cheeks. He would not open his eyes.

"You don't have to, Ollie. I'm still here."

It was the very thing he wanted to hear. Her voice was temptation. And then, it sank, and Oliver thought she was unfair. She was long gone and she was still lying. He kept his eyes shut, refused to end this. If he looked—

And then, like he made her—which he likely did—she asked, "Why won't you look, Ollie? I thought you loved me."

He loved her and he hated her. But she was so fleeting he did not want to say it. "I did everything for you—even afterwards I took care of a stranger just because you asked." For all that he had shown her in the short time they were together, he deserved one thing she was unwilling to do. "You should have given me a chance."

"A chance," she repeated.

A chance to save her. After all, she called him her hero.

Her kisses drove him to insanity. That was the only explanation. Her fragrance was heady—flowers and fruit and a coat of ash. Burnt flesh. Singed carbon.

His eyes shot open. Oliver drew in a huge breath of air. The room was still. Dark. His bed empty save for the lump of his own body. He cursed himself for not listening to his own advice.

Those nights Oliver drowned himself in his belief. It was warm and scorched a path down his throat. It helped him breathe easy, dulled senses he had already dulled until he knew when a bullet tore through him another time he would hardly feel a sting.

A month turned to two turned to six.

In the darkness Oliver nursed a glass of scotch as he stood in the balcony of the suites where he lived. Star City was his refuge. She had never been to Star City. There was no memory that would haunt him there. Here he could be alone, free from her fingers that wrapped around his ankles and weighed him down.

And then he felt them. Her phantom fingers threading up his nape, to tangle in the short hair there. Her hands then moved to his shoulders. And then, slowly they crept down until from behind she wrapped her arms around him. This was how he loved looking out the stained window of the Watchtower. When she held him like this, he believed he was larger than life. Only then he could turn around and take her in his arms to show her he needed her as much.

But he could not turn. He could not look. One mistake and the embrace would be blown away by the wind—like charred remains resting precariously on the surface of the grass.

This was not fair. She was not fair.

"If you're dragging me down with you, then you should have had the decency to shoot me in the head."

The arms around him tightened. Oliver closed his eyes, relishing the sensation. He heard her plead, impossibly like her lips were right there by his ear, "Ollie, why won't you look?"

And the words tore through his chest despite his reluctance to say them, tore so hurtfully from the soreness of his throat, "Because you're dead, Chloe." And he was barely alive. Really, she should have shot him in the head.

"Am I, Ollie?"

He opened his eyes. The lights of Star City converged into one. Alive. He spun around, and found himself once again standing all alone.

"Stop it," he said softly. It was the scotch. Just the scotch. Cut the scotch and he would cut her. Cut the scotch and it would stop her from reaching for him from the ashes.

Only he never wanted it to. Not if this was the only way he could still feel her.

He stumbled back into the suite and poured himself another shot. Oliver glanced at the monitor screen and saw the blinking envelope that notified him of the unread mails. His voicemail was full long ago. He had stopped checking the messages the twentieth time that Tess called. There was no need to talk to her. She could pretend to be a suitable replacement for Chloe as much as she wanted, but the last mission where she guided him ended in a complete, unspeakable failure.

He ignored the ringing phone. Eventually it would roll into the answering machine that was also long ago filled.

"Oliver," he heard Tess' voice. At his surprise, he paused, the glass halfway to his lips. "I sent Impulse to speak with you but according to our speedster friend you were completely out of it." Oliver heard the judgment in her voice. She always did have a way of injecting her opinion even when she the world knew she was no angel. "So I had him reset your machine. Don't worry. I saved your messages in the Watchtower hard drive in case you wanted to play them back. I'm assuming you weren't planning on doing that."

He took a large swallow of the scotch.

"Answer the phone."

Oliver shook his head. He walked towards the phone to turn off the machine. He did not need Tess' voice intruding in the calmness that Star City brought him.

"I need you to look at something. It's an odd blue wave phenomenon that has even Clark concerned. There's an interdimensional rift that looks like something is trying to penetrate the barriers."

One of Clark's Kandorian friends probably. Oliver would not put it past them. Or maybe it was some other dimension he did not know. There was countless.

"You should be concerned too," Tess continued. "The rifts appear haphazardly, in and out, but always around your territory. Whatever it is, it's trying to get into Star City."

His eyes narrowed. Despite the corruption of Star City, this was his home. But he was tired. Being a hero was not all that it was cut out to be. Heroes saved the world, and he could not manage to work through the stubbornness of the only woman he loved. It cost him her life.

Tess knew the reason he walked away from the Green Arrow. Why she thought this would bring him back, he could not know.

"I traced any signal tracking the appearance of the rift. It's Waller."

The glass hit the surface of the table so loudly and abruptly he was afraid the table would crack. Waller had dropped off the face of the earth and quickly as the rest of Chloe's converts. From what Oliver knew, the captive Nemesis rejoined Waller's team. The Bronze Tiger was deployed by the government covert ops to lead efforts in Vietnam. Deadshot prowled Gotham City.

But Waller was a score to settle. If the Suicide Squad's tracking bracelet had imploded, then according to the Tiger it was Waller's finger that pushed the initiate button.

Oliver picked up the phone. "Tess," he said curtly.

"And here I thought you were already dead. Isn't your liver killing you yet? I hear six months straight drinking tends to do that."

He cleared his throat. "As long as you don't need me to transfuse blood, I'm only hurting myself." And then he cut to the chase. "Waller wants the rift."

"Waller has been trying to pin down the intervals and the locations," Tess answered. He heard her typing.

"She's looking for a pattern," he offered. That was good. If Waller was after a pattern then she would be just as predictable."When was the last appearance of the rift?"

"Running the scan," Tess offered. And then, after a beat, she answered, "About fifteen minutes ago." Oliver tensed. "Right before I called."

He heard the quiet landing. Oliver turned around and saw the Batman crouched in his balcony. And then the figure stood and straightened. Oliver waved him inside. "And the first?"

"The first of this series." And it seemed of that she had already prepared her data. "Around the time you came home."

It was Tess' euphemism to the day that Bruce Wayne had dumped him at Watchtower's doorstep after the incident.

"Can you predict the next occurrence?" he asked. "I need to know exactly when."

"Waller is far ahead of us in plotting a histogram and extrapolating to predict, Oliver," Tess said, setting his expectations.

Oliver ended the call, then nodded at Batman. Before him Batman pulled off his mask. As Bruce Wayne, he swept a gaze around the bedroom and his eyes landed on the scotch. He strode towards the bottle and sniffed it, wincing at the scent. "Is this why your city is crawling with criminals?" he asked. Oliver suspected that Bruce already knew the answer. "Because the hero is too busy licking his wounds."

"You wouldn't trivialize if you knew her," Oliver rasped, insulted at the metaphor that Bruce had selected.

"I know her."

"For two days," Oliver cut in. "And you tried to kill her. I was in love with her. You can't tell me you knew her. You were the one who convinced me that she was hiding something."

"And she was," Bruce pressed. "What you don't know is why she did it."

Oliver did not want this. It changed nothing. Whatever Bruce Wayne said, she was still gone. No reason in the world could explain it away.

"But I'm not here to reopen old wounds," Bruce told him.

"Then why are you here?" Oliver demanded. Later he would ask Bruce Wayne for Batman's help in finding Waller.

"I was over at the site," came the quiet words.

Oliver turned gaze as hard as flint towards Bruce. He had never been there, never wanted to be there. His dreams brought him images and scents enough to occupy a lifetime of nightmares. "Why the hell would you go back there?" It was debris, all of it. They were remains that reminded them of how miniscule they were compared to Waller.

"Because something did not make sense."

A lot of it did not. Tiger was too willing to get off the plane. Nemesis, whom Oliver believed kept Chloe within eyesight during missions, suddenly went ahead to the HQ. Deadshot's face was utterly expressionless at the explosion.

"I had a team sift through the debris." Bruce tossed a small capped test tube that Oliver caught. Inside it were ashes. "There are no traces of flesh or bone or hair anywhere in the vicinity."

Oliver's hand tightened around the test tube.

"It's been half a year," he said softly. His eyes filled when he tried to stare at the clear glass. "It would have been gone."

"There should be traces. There was none."

"Chloe. Eve."

"None," Bruce repeated.

It hovered overhead, slowly sinking towards him. I'm still here, she said.

It hit him fast. Oliver sat heavily on the side of the bed. He leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. He looked at the ashes he held and then back towards Bruce. He whispered, "She's alive?"

Bruce's nostrils flared just a little. He gave one curt nod. "She's alive," he agreed. And then, Bruce put on his black mask. "What are you going to do about it, Arrow?"

_Ollie, why won't you look?_

He was going to look now. Oliver answered, "I'm going to move heaven and earth to find her." He stood and opened the secret panel on the wall, then revealed the shiny green leather she had so loved. Knight in shining leather, she called him. Oliver reached forward and touched the suit. His fingers travelled downward, towards the puckered hole where the bullet hit.

"You didn't replace it."

"No." She was going to have to do that herself.

Right now, he needed to regain the hero he had buried like it was the Green Arrow who died in that explosion. "Help me clean up Star City," he asked Bruce.

A few months had passed, and every lead of Waller was dead end. Heaven and earth, it seemed, was more constant than he assumed. Immovable. But Oliver searched for clues to Waller's covert ops team headquarters, hired highly confidential investigators by the hundreds.

Green Arrow stood on the rooftop, clutching the silver bullet carved with the date and the time. The blue rifts had stopped a few months ago. He waited on that rooftop and pressed the side of his night vision goggles. It was almost time.

Part of him was nervous, at the sheer suspicion that this will change his life.

The door opened. Oliver watched as Deadshot walked over towards him. The other man was in a heavy trench. Green Arrow stood at attention, tense without a view of the man's arms. Deadshot tended to strap his weapons to his wrists. "What do you need?" Oliver barked.

Deadshot looked around carefully. "I came to do you a favour," came the familiar drawl.

"What have I done to deserve that?" Green Arrow returned.

Deadshot reached for his arm. "When I escaped the incident," Deadshot claimed, "I walked away and told myself I would never be involved again." It was a wise choice. The enemy was too great, too powerful, too influential for any of the others. "But I visited Star City and saw how you took care of my daughter. So I walked into the HQ and now I'm returning the favour."

Green Arrow frowned. Zoe, he thought.

And then Deadshot moved part of his coat and revealed a tiny bundled newborn strapped to his chest. Oliver pulled his glasses and the hood. He moved to take the infant into his arms, then ran a leather-gloved finger on the baby's cheek. "Mine?" Tiny red lips pursed into a circle. The infant's eyes blinked open. She looked up at Oliver with mellow green eyes.

"I came with a message for you," Deadshot informed him. As if the silent infant in his arms was not enough of a message. "You need to save her. Waller managed to take her when she and Nightshade passed back through the doorway. She's been in Waller's hands for the past fourteen weeks."

That was the last time that Oliver felt her around him. When he felt like her ghost haunted him, she was reaching out from Eve's Land of Shadows.

Oliver looked down at the infant that merely blinked up at him in the darkness. He held tight to the child and strode through the streets. The zipline was not an option, nor was leaping from one rooftop to the other. Finally, he made it to the penthouse suite and placed the infant at the center of the large unmade bed.

Not long ago, Chloe was as good as dead. Now he had a daughter.

He wanted to see her, needed to know she was real, with ten fingers, ten toes. He needed to know that her birth in Waller's headquarters did not permanently damage her. Oliver peeled away the bundled blanket to look at his daughter, then stopped at the words written there in Chloe's hand.

_I never stopped._

At the declaration he had waited to hear since he found her again, Oliver let out a soft chuckle in surprise, a chuckle almost hampered by the skip in his throat.

"Neither did I," he admitted.

Waller needed to go down. This time, he would do it right. Chloe needed him, and he was going to give the rest of the team the chance to save his family. He picked up the infant and held her close to his leather-clad chest.

"Tess, I need the team."

tbc


	10. Chapter 10

**Within Enemy Lines**

by Catheryne (tennysonslady)  
Summary: Oliver joins the Suicide Squad in order to save Chloe Sullivan.  
Characters: Oliver, Chloe, JL, SS  
Pairing: Chlollie  
Rating: PG13

AN: In the comics, the creature in the Land of the Shadows was a Succubus. Also, Dr Karin Grace was the Flag Jr's girlfriend and not Flag's wife. I am taking concepts and changing them a bit for the purpose of this story.

**Part 10**

The ground was powdered sand—red powdered sand, Chloe realized. Her head spun, and she held onto the levelled red ground to gain perspective. A red ground for a dimension long dead. Her fingers curled into the red, remembered Oliver's cry of pain as he fell onto the hard cement.

It worked.

She was alive, and if Wayne was half the hero he seemed to be Oliver would too. He would be in pain, and someone would need to dig up the bullet from Oliver's leg, but he was alive.

She looked up at the sky. Two suns were overhead, burning with blue flame. A few bald trees littered the horizon, throwing tall, dark shadows of figures with long, reaching arms. Chloe was entranced by the stillness, the peaceful quiet. She felt a steady gaze on herself and Chloe turned to look. Emptiness. And then a shadowy figure darted out from behind the trunk of the dead tree and to another. When she stepped forward, Eve caught her arm.

"Don't."

"What is it?" Chloe whispered back. It was the only sign of the life in the forsaken dimension where Eve had thrown them.

"Do not be drawn to it. It can possess you," was the answer. And then Eve nodded, indicating their success. Chloe raised her wrist up and saw the bracelet now quiet, powered down, when earlier it was about to explode. "Waller can't track us here, and the remote that powers that device won't find a signal."

Eagerly, Chloe wrapped her fingers around the intricate chain and jerked hard to break the link. And then the white gold chain unravelled and hung limply from her fingers. She stared at the bracelet, the bane of her existence for so long, the reason she needed to push Oliver as far as she could, the very thing that weighed her down and drowned her when up above the surface Oliver waited. He always waited. A large, gasping sob escaped her chest. Chloe's hand trembled and she raised an arm and threw it away. Midair it caught the blue light of the twin suns and it glittered its farewell before dropping on the red sand.

So quickly, it was over. Chloe imagined herself knocking on his door, her heart finally bared for him. She was no longer tagged with something that could kill him by proximity. He could help her now. And even if he did not forgive her, she knew he loved her enough that he would hold her in bed. That would be a start. At least she was home.

Chloe turned brimming eyes at her friend, who now looked in despair at her surroundings. This was Eve's home—this barren wasteland. It used to be. There had been a time when it used to be grand. Not anymore.

Before Chloe could offer a kind word, Eve shook her head. "Now you can go home."

Eve raised a hand and offered it to Chloe. Chloe took a deep breath and placed her hand in hers. With her free hand, Eve threw up a glowing blue doorway. When they tried to phase through, they found themselves thrown back to the Shadow world. Chloe's eyes grew wife as the blue door flickered, then was gone.

"What happened?" Chloe asked. She turned to her friend, and completely hated the look of surprise on Eve's face.

Eve looked around their empty surroundings and closed her eyes. "The creature wants something we brought with us," she whispered.

"It can have anything it wants," Chloe returned, her voice tense, her chest tight. "I just want to go home to Ollie." They had not brought anything of value. They had phased within a split second of the explosion of the chopper. There had been no time to grab a single thing. "If it wants the bracelet I can take it and offer it to him with a fat smile on my face!"

Eve opened her eyes. Her lips turned into a grim, determined smile. She looked behind Chloe, and Chloe turned to see a dark shadow looming and sluggishly creeping towards them. "I know what it wants," Eve told her quietly. "And you don't want to give it up. Trust me."

"I do," Chloe answered.

"Then don't let go of my hand," Eve instructed. "There is an abandoned tower southwest of here. That's where we're headed. At the count of three, run like the hounds of hell are nipping at your feet." Chloe appreciated the turn of phrase. "One. Two." Chloe took a deep breath. "Three."

They burst into a run. Chloe felt Nightshade's firm grip, knew she was running behind so she sped up. They ran, and Chloe felt the cold shadow teasing and taunting them even though she did not look back. It was long, and hard, and halfway there she stumbled and lost her grip on Eve's hand. Her ankle hurt, burned like fire.

"Get up," Eve said quietly. 

"I need—" Chloe gasped for air, her ankle hurt like a bitch. "I need to rest for a bit."

"It's coming."

Chloe blinked back the pained tears. "What else can it take?" Because really, she could not run so fast, so long. The tower was still so small and out there. "What does it want?" They could not get out, and if it killed them—

"Life," Eve said urgently. "Not yours or mine. I listened to the whispers of the shadow, Chloe. Nothing had been born or grew in this wasteland for centuries. It's starving to taste of new life."

Chloe looked back at Eve. Her lips parted. New life. The last few days—

Chloe pulled herself up and held onto Eve's arm. And then she fought against the wave of pain. The Shadow was close. Chloe zoned out the rest of the world and headed for the goal.

When they reached the tower, Eve pushed the heavy doors shut. Chloe collapsed against the wall and slid down to the floor, panting to catch her breath. Her limbs shook; her bones had turned to jelly. The adrenaline and propelled her forward through the chase left her body in a rush.

Doors and windows slammed shut around her as Eve ensured that the Shadow could not creep inside.

"Get us out of here!" Chloe cried out, but her nerves had overcome her and it came out as a furious whisper.

Eve turned a frantic look towards her, then turned and threw up both of her hands, shooting out a blue orb around them. Chloe pulled herself up and walked through, seeing the translucent figures. Oliver was lying on a bed, his leg bandaged while he recovered. Bruce Wayne stood to the side, nodding during a conversation with the doctor. Chloe walked towards the figure and touched Oliver's cheek. She looked towards Nightshade.

"Open the door, Eve," she pleaded. Chloe needed to be home, needed to make her way back.

But Eve shook her head. "It won't let me. This is the most I can do right now. But I'll find a way," she promised.

Eve had gotten her this far. Without Nightshade's powers she would have been casualty of the explosion. Without Nightshade Chloe and the bracelet would have been within Amanda Waller's tracking distance when the latter initiated the Suicide Squad's response to agents gone rogue. "Please," Chloe agreed.

And then Chloe leaned over and whispered into his ear, "Ollie, wake up. Look at me, Ollie."

That first time, Chloe spent hours watching over him from the blue haze that tinted the vision. If she could not be by his side, she would watch over him this way. The image flickered and Chloe glanced towards Eve, who appeared exhausted holding up the flimsy link to the other plane.

Chloe bit her lip. With one last look towards Oliver's image, Chloe said, "You can take it down."

The blue orb vanished, and they were once again back in the stillness within the tower. Eve lowered her arms. "I can't sustain that for long."

Chloe brushed the tears from her cheeks. "It's okay. That was enough."

"We can't stay here long. We'll find a way. If we're far enough away from the Shadow, I can throw a doorway that it won't be able to block."

But it had taken weeks before they ventured out, and over and over the shadow loomed ready to spring towards them. They consumed supplies that had been stored away by the occupants when the end of the Land of Shadows drew near.

In the months that followed as the swell of her belly gently curved underneath her clothing, Chloe wondered how life would be if she remained there. There was a flutter inside her, and Chloe placed a hand over the taut skin of her belly at the movement.

One day, Eve would leave. Chloe knew it just as well as she knew that she was the only reason that Nightshade remained in the world she had already escaped. Nightshade had enough power to open the doorway. The only reason that she could not pass was that she held Chloe's hand. And Chloe was the one who held what the Shadow wanted. That day came half a year into their isolation.

"I'm coming back," Eve promised. Chloe kept her face stoic, nodded because Eve had spent too long imprisoned when she did not have to be so. "We need someone to keep the Shadow away when we pass."

Eve had built a life in their world. If Chloe wanted nothing more than to be home with Oliver, she knew Eve had the same dreams. When the other woman thought she slept, she threw orbs of her own. Chloe peered in and invaded her privacy by watching how Nightshade watched over Nemesis from the blue haze.

And if Nightshade was never coming back, Chloe would not blame her—not an ounce.

"I swear I'm coming back. I never abandon missions halfway," Eve told her.

Chloe nodded. "One last thing," she whispered.

And when Nightshade threw her that final goodbye, Chloe stepped forward and found Oliver standing in the balcony, looking out at a city she had not seen before. There was a gorgeous bridge lit up, a topping over a calm river. The horizon twinkled with lights from the countless windows that peered back at Oliver Queen. Chloe reached up and touched the hair at the back of his neck. He was so tense, so lost. She placed her hands on his shoulders and pressed, like he loved so much.

With Nightshade leaving her, this could very well be the last time she saw him. He would never know—

So she wrapped her arms around him and pressed her body to his back.

And then she heard the bitterness in his voice when he said, "If you're dragging me down with you, then you should have had the decency to shoot me in the head."

She tightened her arms around him, squeezing her eyes shut because even in the harsh words she heard how much he loved her. He believed she was dead, and even now so long ago from the incident he loved her. If Eve could not, maybe he would save her. She only wished he felt the baby in the distance between them. "Ollie," she whispered, so close, so he would know, "why won't you look?"

Her heart broke when she heard his response. "Because you're dead, Chloe."

And then, she asked, "Am I, Ollie?" Chloe stepped out of the haze. She looked at Eve, then thanked her friend. That was enough. "Go," she said to Eve.

"I'm coming back," she promised again. Chloe nodded, then watched as Eve vanished into the open doorway.

Seven days, but she was not alone. The dark shadow loomed outside, ever closer, ever bolder. While her baby grew it seemed the Shadow was more and more impatient. A new life, finally, in the abandoned planet. The Shadow wanted; the Shadow desired. Chloe wrapped her arms protectively around her belly.

On the seventh day she heard the loud noise, the rush of air. She jerked up from the floor, rattled by the sudden noise in a place that had long been quiet. The doors burst open and Chloe saw Eve run inside, leaving the door open.

"Nemesis is holding the Shadow," Eve said in a clipped voice. Chloe recognized the fear in her friend's voice. Once again, Nemesis was the bait. She wondered if Eve had him disguise himself as Chloe. "They're far enough away, but we need to put some more distance."

Eve's gaze landed on the swell of her belly. "Can you run?"

If it was going to get them away from this hell and back home… "I can run," Chloe answered. She placed a hand over the baby, who now rolled inside her like it knew that it was time for something inevitable. Eve looked around them and out the door. Chloe rubbed her palm over where she knew the baby's head was, then whispered, "You're going home to your dad."

"Chloe, when we get back, Waller will find us. She's been tracking our visits."

"As long as we get home," Chloe answered. If Waller did find them, it made them that much closer to the League.

Eve nodded. "Then straight ahead. Don't stop. Grab my hand when we reach the cliff."

They ran, and the heavy weight was punishment. But this time it did not matter. Chloe had one goal in mind. Behind them, far from them, she knew her partner did his very best to keep the Shadow occupied while they escaped. They reached the cliff in time. Chloe looked down at the jutted rocks below. It was apparent that there used to be water there. But the water dried when the planet died.

"It's coming," Eve said tersely.

Of course it would feel there was no new life in Nemesis. Chloe turned around and felt Eve's form slam onto hers, propelling them both over the cliff. Chloe wrapped her arm around her belly and grabbed Eve's hand. And then they were midair, hurtling down towards the sharp rocks. Eve threw open a doorway below them, close to the rocks. Chloe closed her eyes right before impact.

And then she felt water wrap around her, drag her down. Chloe opened her eyes and found herself underwater with Eve. Her friend swam away and then vanished, needing to come back for Nemesis. Chloe felt herself sinking. She kicked at the water, forcing herself up. She did not travel two dimensions only to drown. But her baby was heavy now, and growing up in Kansas had never made her a strong swimmer.

She felt the lack of air make her heady, and before long she was sinking. Chloe then felt rough hands pull her to the surface and take her.

When Chloe woke, it was cold and white. She opened her eyes to find herself staring at a fluorescent bulb attached to the ceiling, swinging like a pendulum. She was surrounded by windowless walls and a closed door. She sat up and sighed with relief.

It was one of Waller's prisons, but she was back. She hoped that Nightshade and Nemesis would make it home.

There was nothing to do but sit, and Chloe recognized the fact as the first of Waller's punishment. She had always plotted, or read, or searched, or worked. Even when Chloe joined Waller's team she had been made to train immediately afterwards. The dead silence was Waller's gentlest way of taking power away from Chloe. Chloe hoped that the team was able to bring down the Suicide Squad headquarters and let lose the prisoners.

The door opened the next day, in the morning, and Waller stepped inside. Chloe sat up straight at the sight. She tamped down the urge to wrap her arms protectively around her belly. After all, a Queen did not hide in fear of the enemy. She would give her baby that sense of pride at least.

"You betrayed me," Waller stated. "I took you in and treated you like a valued asset, and you turned my very best against me."

Chloe was proud of that accomplishment, so she refused to answer.

"You may have destroyed the Squad for now, but the Suicide Squad is more than those few whose minds you've poisoned," Waller told her. The very statement filled Chloe with pride. "I have the means to band together a better Squad, a larger Squad. We have the resources to build new headquarters. You'll see, Chloe. The Squad will be here long after every one of you is dead."

"But right now, there is no Suicide Squad," Chloe answered. Right now, the threat had been removed from the people she loved the most. "You gave me the best news."

Waller shook her head. "You think you've destroyed something evil. You don't understand that the Suicide Squad worked to keep this country safe. That is our mission. The Squad is bigger than any of you could ever comprehend."

"You don't get to decide blindly that right is everything some anonymous government official tells you is right," Chloe answered. "Anyone with power needs to decide for himself."

"You turned my own operatives against me. Is that deciding for themselves?"

Chloe smirked. She remained seated on the cot. "Those people are intelligent enough. If I'm nothing but a nuisance to you, Amanda, then you have to know they decided to turn against you all on their own." And then she paused. She was tired. Her energy did not need to be wasted on someone like Amanda Waller. "What do you need from me?"

She wanted to scratch out the curve on Waller's lips. Chloe realized at that moment that there was no grand plan, nothing to build for, nothing to brace for. Waller was merely taking one chess piece out of play.

"I am building the Suicide Squad. You died to the only people outside the Squad who knows you're alive." Waller stepped forward and leaned over so Chloe could hear the soft words. "You will never disrupt any of my plans again. I hope you like this room. You and your kid are going to spend a lifetime in here." Amanda Waller's cold hand rested on the baby, and Chloe immediately felt the kick like a struggle. "Strong one, isn't it? I just might have a marvelous operative in the making there, Chloe. Thank you for the recruit."

The words brought a sharp pang of fear inside her, just when she thought there was nothing that would make her weak or fearful in front of Amanda Waller ever again. But she had only been terrified of the woman when they took Oliver. "Get your hand off me," Chloe gritted out.

Waller's hand remained for another second. "You better be nicer and more cooperative if I need your skills in the future. You have so much more to lose this time around."

Chloe did not release her breath until the door shut behind Waller. And then she sucked in her breath. Chloe stood and looked at the wall, tested the surface, pressed, looking, searching. She reached the door and pulled, knowing full well it would not budge.

She needed to get out.

The next day, Flag's widow walked into the room. Chloe stared at the doctor as the woman walked and placed a small container on the bare table. She swallowed, knowing full well that the woman had already found out that it was Deadshot, working with Chloe, who killed Flag during the attack.

"Dr Grace," Chloe said quietly. "Karin."

The woman opened her bag and slid a folder. Chloe could not blame the cold shoulder. She wondered if it was the hormones, or her own pregnancy, but Chloe was suddenly filled with guilt knowing that Karin now needed to raise Flag's son all by herself.

"How far along are you?" came the terse question.

The guilt was climbing in her throat. When they came up with the plan, no one humanized Flag enough to feel one of them would one day sit across Dr Grace, or need to think about what happened to the son that Rick would leave behind. "I don't know," Chloe rasped. All she wanted was to reach for the other woman. "How long have I been gone?" Time moved so sluggishly in another dimension, when nothing needed to be accomplished except survive.

"Rick has been dead a little over six months."

"Karin—"

"So what does it make the pregnancy?" the doctor interrupted. "How far along, Chloe?"

Chloe blinked, watching as the doctor poised the pen over the paper. "A little over six months. It was just that week."

The doctor wrote down the information and then handed her a cuff. Chloe took the blood pressure cuff and remained quiet as the doctor examined her. Every pore in Karin's body told her she did not want to be there, but Waller had taunted her with plans for her baby and she knew that Karin Grace was forced to perform this as well.

"You're a little small for how far along you are," the doctor told her. She scribbled notes on a pad and handed it to her. "I assume wherever Nightshade took you there was no medical care."

Food had been barely food there.

"I left medication for you over where. Here are your instructions. I'm sure you can figure it out."

Chloe took the slip of paper, then walked over to the container on the table. If this was a benefit she was going to get from Waller, she was going to make the most of it. She compared the contents of the container with the notes that Karin gave her, then nodded. "Thank you." The doctor proceeded towards the door. Chloe called out. "I'm sorry, Karin. I didn't—I didn't think."

The door shut with no response.

Over time, Chloe was pulled from the holding room four times to help Waller decode information and run analysis on patterns. On the second month of her imprisonment Chloe was taken back to the holding room. The guard opened the door. The man holding onto her arm fell to his knees. At her other side the guard was thrown to the wall.

Chloe turned around and found herself staring at the head of the guards. She backed away, holding a hand protectively over her belly. The man slid a pistol into his holster, then adjusted the neck of his sweater. Chloe honed in on the familiar gesture. "Tom!" The man smirked, then nodded.

"Waller will know soon enough that you've gone missing. Come on," he urged.

Chloe placed a hand in Nemesis', grateful of the proof that Nemesis and Nightshade made their way back safely. She moved to follow, and they ran down the corridor until they reached the steps. Chloe heard the shots behind them and cringed. They raced down the steps and turned. Chloe's heart raced. She was getting out. She was getting out and Amanda Waller would never lay a hand on her baby.

Halfway down the next flight of steps, Chloe felt the pain rip through her belly. Her hand tightened fiercely around Nemesis'.

"Are you alright?"

Chloe cried out and grasped the wall, then doubled over. Her vision was turning dark. She slowly lowered herself on the step and looked down at the flood of fluid that soaked her clothing. And then, slowly, a line of blood creep down between her thighs.

"Chloe," came the terse voice.

She blinked and found his face swimming in and out of her vision.

"I came lift you up and I can take us out of here. I need you to focus."

The sharp pain ripped inside her. She heard Nemesis speak into his comm. link. When he took her in his arms and stood, Chloe felt the pain escalate and she clutched at her belly. Chloe forced open her eyes and she shook her head. She wanted nothing more than to get out, but she knew her body well enough that she knew she had to stay.

"Get out of here!" she said, pushed at his shoulders.

"We can get out."

"No!" she said sharply. If he insisted he was going to get her and the baby in even more danger. "Just—make sure you come back. Make sure you find Oliver—"

When he was gone, Chloe rested back at the landing of the steps. She cried out at the sharp pain. When she looked down the floor was bloody. She looked up and saw Dr Grace racing down the steps. "Help me," she whispered.

She was coming in and out of consciousness, and she knew she was not going to be awake for this birth. Karin's white pants bloomed bright red when the doctor knelt in front of her. Chloe gasped and kept herself awake for as long as she could. She grasped Karin's hands. "I swear, Karin, I am so sorry."

The doctor opened her bag and said curtly, "Stay with me, Chloe."

Chloe threw back her head. When she did, she saw Deadshot on the upper flight. Her team—the Squad that she had turned against Waller—had come for her. She could not help but feel pride at her accomplishment. Deadshot's gun was trained on the doctor.

"No," she said softly. Floyd lowered the gun and made his way down to the landing. "Are we secure?" Floyd nodded. Chloe turned to the doctor. Dr Grace was tense at the presence of her husband's killer. "If anything happens—"

"We have the facility to ensure you stay alive. Billions of women have done this before, Chloe."

Chloe reached blindly at the pain. She found Floyd's arm and held tightly. "I mean Waller," she said. "Don't give my baby to her." She looked at Deadshot. "I swear to you that Oliver would have taken care of Zoe like you asked, Floyd. I need you to find a way to take my baby home."

"We'll take you both."

"Security on a child is far lighter than on me. If you have the opening, take it," Chloe told him. Floyd nodded.

"There's too much blood," she heard Karin say. "I need to take her in." The doctor turned to Deadshot and said, "Get out. I'm calling for help. If the baby is healthy enough, I'll leave the nursery door unlocked five days from now." Chloe looked at awe at the doctor. "No child deserves to be raised within these lines," Karin told her. "The issue between us is among adults, not babies."

"Five days," Chloe agreed.

Deadshot jumped straight down over the railing and vanished.

She would have five days with her baby.

The pain calmed somewhat, the eye of the storm. Chloe went out of consciousness until she felt the arms around her, lifting her and transporting her to the infirmary.

When she woke afterwards, Chloe's entire body ached. She saw the doctor sitting in the chair beside her holding a small bundle in her arms. "Thank you," she said softly. Karin Grace stood while Chloe struggled to sit up. She accepted the baby and said hello.

"It's a girl," Karin offered. "I told Amanda the baby needs to stay with you for the next five days before we keep her in the nursery."

Chloe buried her nose in the baby's soft hair. Her daughter would be with her until Deadshot needed to take her, until Oliver could hold her. She closed her eyes and buried her face in the blanket.

"Do you want to try to feed her?"

Chloe had not thought of a family—not with Jimmy, not with Clark, not with Oliver. But when the baby latched quickly to her nipple, and Chloe gasped in surprise and then felt the gentle motion of the baby feeding from her, she could not think of anything else she had been meant to do.

"Maybe we shouldn't let Floyd take her," Chloe whispered. "If he does, how will she eat?"

"Oliver Queen will figure it out," Karin told her. "But if you want what's best for the baby, you will get her out of here as fast as you can."

And the doctor remained silent while Chloe finished. Chloe put the baby on the bed in front of her, then gentle peeled the blanket so she could see all of her. She said softly, "How is she?"

"She's small," the doctor said.

The pregnancy had not been ideal, not where she was. But Chloe had faith that Oliver would take care of her enough that soon she would be as big and strong as all the healthiest babies. "Is she healthy enough to be taken away?"

"She is," Karin answered. Chloe suspected even if the doctor doubted it she would find the risk worth being removed from Amanda Waller's reach.

"Good," Chloe whispered. She brushed her fingertips across her daughter's red lips. "You'll meet your daddy soon." And from what little she had seen of Oliver, he needed to meet her too. "You tell him that mommy needs him, okay?"

"Her name?" Karin prompted.

She had known about the baby when the pregnancy was only a few days along, and throughout the time she could not decide on a name—not without Oliver. Chloe shook her head. "When we're all home, we'll think of one," she answered.

tbc


	11. Chapter 11

**Within Enemy Lines**

by Catheryne (tennysonslady)  
Summary: Oliver joins the Suicide Squad in order to save Chloe Sullivan.  
Characters: Oliver, Chloe, JL, SS  
Pairing: Chlollie  
Rating: PG13

AN: Thanksgiving – So I want to thank all of you for welcoming my odd little self into the Chlollie fic world. I appreciate those of you who read the stories I write.

**Part 11**

The concept of loving any other being more than one loved himself had been foreign to him until Chloe. Before he loved her, he had never thought of life. And then he loved her, and all he knew was the present, and all he wanted was a future.

When he held his daughter for the first time, Oliver opened his eyes to death. It was a jarring moment when he met that green stare and all Oliver could think of was dying. The past and shame. Dying and fear. And this little girl who had nothing except, right now, him—woefully inadequate but loved her completely. And suddenly, after all the pain and failures in his life, Oliver was finally unprepared to die.

He had bundled the baby in the blanket and bolstered her on either side with pillows. Oliver brushed his teeth, suddenly ashamed of the alcohol in his breath. He changed into civilian clothes and walked out unashamed holding the baby, then brought several changes of clothes for the newborn. The saleslady looked at him in awe and offered Oliver Queen a carrier.

"Mr Queen, is that—"

"My daughter," he said, his voice clear, ringing in his own ears. He took the carrier and paid for it, then made his way out of the store and called Emil at once, who wasn't a pediatrician over and over. At least he said it over and over as his disclaimer as he gave Oliver the name of a formula.

When everything he needed was at hand, and Oliver was certain that Star City's lifestyle and business sections were rattling with photographs and eyewitness accounts, he took the car and had himself driven to the tarmac to board his private plane.

The phone in his pocket rang. Oliver thought it would be Tess with an update and found himself staring at Lois' name in his caller ID. He had long ago ignored those calls. He had not been prepared to explain the loss, to apologize for his part. This time he answered the call. Instead of the frantic mess that was Lois the last few months there was a calm, fearful note to her voice. Almost like she was afraid that it would not be true.

"You're all over the web. You're twitter's top trending businessman," Lois said with forced humor—like she was trying not to hope. "You're more popular today than when you came out."

"Am I?" he said softly.

Oliver rested back in his seat and glanced at the carrier he had carefully strapped to the seat next to him. If he could bring her any closer he would have. He leaned over the baby and pulled down the cap he had bought, with frilly little flowers and drawings of giraffes on the cotton. He wished she would open her eyes although he knew she could barely see yet. He wanted her to open her eyes because when she did she looked so much like her mother.

"It's true, isn't it," came Lois' voice. It was not a question.

Oliver would not have paraded himself so thoughtlessly like that if it were not real.

"Where's my cousin?" Lois had not seen her in over a year. Oliver pitied her. And if he was going to move heaven and earth, tempt hell and kick it in the rear, then he needed Lois Lane. "Where's Chloe?"

"I'm working on it," Oliver assured her. Because he was going to give his daughter a mother—her mother—if it was the last thing he did. She was going to have a mother and a father. "Lois, listen—"

When the jet landed in Metropolis a few hours later, Oliver found Lois waiting at the tarmac bundled in her best effort to disguise herself. Oliver handed the light little bundle he held and curtly told her, "Keep her safe. Chloe and I are coming to get her." He promised, this time to the sleeping baby, "Soon."

And like she knew just what her father wanted, the infant blinked and gave her father another peek at the piercing green eyes.

"I love you," he whispered. And he meant it so much it physically hurt his heart.

With one last look, Oliver watched Lois enter the car he had hired and take his most precious possession with her. He took a deep breath as the car vanished down the road, then stood straight and firm. He could not imagine the strength that it took to be Chloe this entire time, and he was going to be half as courageous for the end his family deserved.

"Are they there?" he said into the phone when he made his way back to the Watchtower. He had asked Tess to gather the team together. It was time to save Chloe. It was their turn now.

He stood alone in the Watchtower with Tess. Even then, he prepared himself. Oliver changed into the green leather and imagined himself her knight, because that was what she called him. When he was set to leave, the door opened and he found himself looking back at the black masked figure of the Batman.

"You and me again," Bruce said, his voice deep.

Oliver heard the footsteps as they neared. A figure turned the corridor, and Clark appeared in his red and blue uniform. He nodded in gratitude. Clark responded, matter of fact, and Oliver realized no matter how far apart Clark and Chloe had grown Clark still saw it the same way he did when they were children, "That's my best friend."

It would have been the three of them, and Oliver knew they would be more than enough. They returned to the Watchtower where Tess worked to determine the new location of the headquarters. They would need to be smart, fast, and they had to have balls as large as Kansas to take on the entire headquarters and the resources of Amanda Waller and the government by the three of them.

But Chloe had been so much to so many, or a little essential part, that Oliver should not have worried.

When they came, they came like the flood. They came like a downpour. When Tess called and said her name, they converged around him like there was no other crisis in the world, no other danger they faced, no other thing mattered.

His throat closed at the costumed heroes—every one of them that hid from the world but made their way to the building that carried her code name.

Oliver had expected the Justice League, and there they stood proudly as the first team she had been part of. Victor leaned against the pillar that held the screen that monitored the new arrivals. AC sat back on the table where Tess worked. Dinah sat on the chair in front of it and cross long fishnet-clad legs. Bart stayed by the door with his hands in his pockets and his hood drawn. Jonn watched from the second floor with his arms folded across his chest. The Batman stood quietly at his side, observing the proceedings. They were her team; and they had come with every intention of finishing this mission and bringing her home.

Oliver did not expect to see the former Squad members, but understood immediately their presence in the room.

"I stopped him in a bank heist," Oliver heard Bruce say when the door opened and revealed a familiar face. "Told him he can spend his energy much better elsewhere."

Oliver found himself looking at a man he had only just encountered. He wondered what the League would think of the presence of an obvious villain in their own clubhouse.

"I know how to repay a debt," Deadshot told him when he walked into the room, the guns hanging from his wrists, shocking Tess Mercer into attention. But Tess had worked with the White Queen before and soon relaxed at the presence of men that Oliver had thought were villains. After all, Tess already knew that it was Deadshot who brought the baby home. Anyone who cradled a week old infant against him was bound to have humanity in him. Oliver was grateful for that small amount and the little attention he spared finding that girl while he grieved, because unknown to him saving Zoe went far into saving his own family.

"I wasn't staying in the jungle the moment I heard about this," said the Bronze Tiger when he walked into the Watchtower in his dark green wifebeater and muddied fatigue pants. "She brought us together."

And right after him walked in Nemesis, strapped, in costume but not in disguise. He nodded at Oliver, and at once Oliver knew not to expect his reason in words. Chloe had been his partner, the person he had trusted with his life mission upon mission they had been sent. From what Oliver had learned, she was the one who made him realize what organization was the Squad.

And then it was Nightshade, in her black catsuit, walking right beside Nemesis. "I didn't take her across dimensions only to have her locked up in wherever the new headquarters are." And then, with a brief glance at Nemesis, she turned to Oliver, "We cross so she can come home."

It was a large group, and they were almost full. Oliver knew it would be a challenge to coordinate the efforts, but he was grateful for the support. The more they were, the stronger they became. He cleared his throat, and before he could speak the door swung open and in strode the Hawkman, knocking Bart sideways when he spread his wings. Oliver looked on as the man dangled his mace. "Is the gathering over?" growled Carter.

"Gathering," Stargirl said, placing a hand on her hip. "You're so ancient, Hawkman. It's a party. I hope we're not too late!"

"You're not late," Clark answered from the other end of the room. "We were just about to present our plans to everyone."

Belatedly, Dinah stood as a handful of costumed women walked into the room. Dinah joined the small group, and the redhead new arrival told him, "We worked with Chloe a couple of years ago researching a lynchpin from Gotham." He had never even known she worked far beyond the scope of the League he had assigned to her.

Oliver blinked, fascinated at the number of heroes—yes, heroes even with the former members of the Suicide Squad—that were eager to save Chloe. This was what she had walked away for, he thought, and by the looks of it her effort had not been in vain.

Every small group had a leader. "We should break into smaller teams and coordinate our efforts based on those plans," Oliver suggested. He was surprised when the superpowered mass agreed with him. Inside Watchtower gathered the most powerful beings in the planet, and they agreed with him.

"You're the boss," Hawkman allowed.

He had the most to lose, Oliver realized.

Because if it all went to hell, it was Chloe who was going to be trapped inside.

So with a firm voice, and an attitude that brooked no nonsense, he demanded, "What can you bring to the table?" If they strategized like little children, then they were useless. He was not going to lose because of men and women who were irresponsible because they had power.

Sonic screams, martial arts, ancient weapons, superhuman strength. They had it all.

"We're dropping in from the air," Tiger offered, and Oliver recalled the prowess with which the Broze Tiger jumped from the helicopter. From the air with guns blazing, Oliver knew. And out of all of them, it was that team who would know how the HQ would be laid out.

"I can break through the windows," Hawkman offered.

The Birds of Prey would find a way underground, and meander through the tunnels that Oracle would plot from satellite images once they found out the coordinates.

"We're coming in from all sides," Victor said, putting the whole strength of the Justice League behind him.

Oliver was going to walk right in, and it did not matter that he and Bruce were the ones who were human, who were the most vulnerable of them all. He was going to save Chloe—this once it would be him and not the other way around. But he had a daughter now, and he was rational enough to look towards Clark and admit, "I need backup."

"I've got you," Clark responded.

The operation unfolded as smoothly as the action steps that Oliver pieces together on a board in the Watchtower. The former members of the Suicide Squad choppered and dropped in to the watch. One by one the heat signatures from the lookouts fell as Tess watched from the Watchtower. Oliver heard the narration in his earpiece.

Oliver lay in wait as Dinah's teammates called to the League that they had unlatched the secret passages. AC, Victor and Bart made their way and fought their way inside hand to hand. Many of the men in the inner sanctum were powered, and Oliver heard the grunts and the real punches thrown inside. Hawkman crashed into the walls and Stargirl blinded most of the guards where they were.

"Your turn, Archer," Clark said to him.

Oliver turned, then nodded. "If something happens to me, save Chloe," he said, even in his confidence he could not let go without leaving that one reminder.

"You save her," Clark responded stubbornly.

So Oliver turned to Bruce, who agreed at once, "We will."

"And if it's both of us—"

"Then the girl's an heiress," Bruce answered with a smirk. "She'll be fine."

The girl had not a single piece of paper to her name. His daughter didn't even have a name. But if anyone could make the entire world give an infant her due in billions, it would be Bruce Wayne.

"But you'd better come back with Chloe if you don't want your daughter to be as screwed up as you or me," Bruce said, his voice somber. "Or God forbid, Lex Luthor," he said. Oliver shuddered at the thought of a little girl with Chloe's face and the fortune and freedom of any of the three billionaire boys of Excelsior.

Oliver burst into a run, bowing against the fire exchanged by the different sides, as he pushed his way through the open courtyard and he burst into the main offices. Tiger gestured to him, and Oliver fell into step beside the man as they raced their way down the steps. In the crossfire Tiger was hit, and Oliver heard him back at him to go down two more levels.

When he did, Oliver encountered a white doorway. Oliver kicked it open and found himself staring at a large open space with two corridors to either side. Each corridor was lined with doors. A body fell from above, with a large gash on the head and a torn gut. Oliver looked up and saw Carter hovering above with a scowl.

Oliver kicked each and every one of the door to find the rooms empty. He heard the noises behind him and knew that Waller had been alerted that he was on the floor. Three men ran towards him with guns and Oliver blinked once to find them all on the ground. The red and blue blur slowed. Clark nodded. "Go. Batman and I will take care of them."

And they were coming from all sides, just as the League did to break in. Oliver looked at the endless rows of doors.

"Over here!" He found himself looking at a short girl with exotic eyes. The girl was wearing a Suicide Squad jacket. "Faster," she called out. "The White Queen is taking her."

Plastique, he realized. Chloe had told him about her once. She had been hopeful about the girl, but she had turned and was seduced by Waller's promises.

"I've no problem getting all of you vigilantes for the White Queen, but Chloe saved my ass."

At this, Oliver smirked and shook her head in disbelief. No matter how deep he went, he thought. Oliver ran down the direction that Plastique had indicated. He found Waller's guard dragging Chloe with towards a van. He hated vans. They had tied him up and blindfolded him once in a van. It was not pretty.

Oliver took an arrow from its sheath and stretched taut the compound bow and focused on Waller. He jerked in surprise when suddenly the guard and Chloe turned the opposite way. The arrow zipped through the air and buried into Waller's shoulder instead of her heart.

At the unexpected move, a shot rang out and Chloe screamed. Oliver's heart froze. He saw the red blood splatter over Chloe's face, her arms, her clothes. And then the guard fell over her, limp and heavy, bringing them both down to the ground. Chloe screamed and Oliver saw the dark red blood seeping on the ground beneath them.

"Chloe," he said gently, kneeling in front of her.

"No, no, no," she whispered, like a whisper, like a chant. Chloe gripped tightly to Waller's guard on top of her.

"Are you hurt?"

Her eyes fluttered open and her eyes widened. She sobbed. "Ollie," she whispered.

Oliver lifted the heavy body on top of hers and released her. And then he realized who it was with half of the mask off. "He's alive," he assured her. "They'll take care of him." And then Nightshade came and took Nemesis with her.

He pulled her up until they both knelt in the warm puddle of Nemesis' blood. His eyes darted, drinking in her face—tearstained and bloody as it was. His hands cupped her cheeks and he met her lips with his. Chloe was divine, and he drank from her lips like she was all the scotch he would need in his life. His arms then wrapped tightly around her. He was not going to let her go. Never. Never again.

"You saved me!" she said, laughing softly, grateful.

And her gratitude would be a tiny drop of an ocean in his heart. "Not just me. Everyone you saved came for you."

Oliver was reluctant to release her, but allowed herself that brief moment when she looked up and around her and saw, level upon level, on the ground and in the air every hero that had come out to Amanda Waller's headquarters. His chest filled with pride when Oliver stared in awe at every one of them who looked down at them with a smile.

Oliver looked up and noted that Carter held up a fist to his heart, and Chloe surreptitiously brushed at a tear that fell. Slowly, one by one, the rest followed.

"That's how they salute heroes," she whispered.

"Then they're doing it exactly right," he said in response.

Oliver looked back where Waller was twisted on the ground. But he could not kill her, not when she was so helpless and injured. Batman could not turn her over to the authorities when everyone knew for whom she worked.

Instead it was the Bronze Tiger who volunteered to take her. As long as she was far away from his family, Oliver did not mind.

Oliver stood and helped Chloe up. She looked back towards the infirmary and he knew she would be restless unless she saw. They walked towards them and found Nemesis awake and cursing out loud while a female doctor bandaged him as Nightshade held a gun to her head.

"He'll be alright?" Chloe said quietly.

The doctor nodded, and firmly planted herself where she would not need to speak more.

Chloe released a breath of relief. Nightshade lowered the gun. And then Oliver took her hand and brought it up to his lips. She pulled him to her by the edges of the green leather vest. And then she told him, "There's something I haven't said."

His heart warmed, because even silent he could see it in her eyes. He wondered how she ever thought she would be able to hide it from him. "I already know."

"So you said." Chloe took a deep breath, and then she confessed, "I love you."

And even though he knew, his heart stopped when she said them.

"I love you like I've never loved anyone before. I love you so much I would have died for you," she whispered.

He throat was tight. He nodded. "I know. Now do you think you'll love me enough that you'll try to survive for us?" Her eyes filled. He brushed his thumb over her cheek and caught a stay teardrop. "Can you do that for your daughter?"

She closed her eyes, then wrapped her arms around his neck, clinging to him. And then he felt her lips on his neck, kissing her way to his jaw. Every kiss was a whisper of love she had not uttered, even breath an apology. He turned his head and captured her lips.

"How is she?"

"Perfect," he told her. And with some thought, he recognized, "Like you." He would have his hands full. "I left her with Lois so I could get you," he said like he had merely swung to pick her up from the mall. "What did you name her?"

"I didn't," Chloe told him. "I wanted to wait for you."

And he fell in love with her all over again.

"Emerald," he whispered. Em. He could live with that. It was a beautiful name. Emerald Queen. She would make the world bow down to her in no time.

"For you," she agreed.

"No." He shook his head. "For your eyes. Because when Deadshot gave her to me, and she looked at me with your eyes—I knew she was mine." He grasped her arm, ran his fingers through her hair. She looked all the worse for wear, but they were together now. She was more beautiful than he had ever seen. Soon they would surround them, and he would thank each and every one of those who came to save her. "Let's go home," he said, and the word fell so easily from his mouth. "Home to Star City."

"Home," she answered.

And if he heard her right, there was no question or protest. They were coming home with their daughter.

When Chloe first saw their daughter again, Oliver found himself paralyzed by the doorway. Lois had exclaimed in surprise at the sight of her cousin, and Oliver was grateful they had the chance to wash away the blood and the sweat before they came. Seeing how the heroes had come to her when she needed them, and knowing her reasons for keeping him away, Oliver knew that whether he wanted it or not, the hero business was always going be part of her life.

But one thing he had asked her to swear, to which she had agreed and had him reciprocate, that the ugly part, the hurtful part, the dangerous part, would not come near the baby.

So Oliver watched from the doorway as Chloe took the baby from Lois. Their daughter burrowed immediately into Chloe, pressing a button nose into the pulsepoint in Chloe's throat, then curling into a tight little ball and nuzzling against Chloe's breath.

She knew she was with her mother.

Chloe pressed a soft kiss into the baby's soft tuft of hair. She glanced at him from the corner of her eye. "What are you doing there?" she asked softly.

She extended a hand towards him and Oliver closed his hand around his. "I just thought I wouldn't ever have the chance to see this." He touched the baby's cheek. "She looks like you." Her eyes were so green and they hid nothing. Nothing at all. Not even when she tried, and now she was so open the look in her eyes overwhelmed him. But she had only just come home, only just admitted how she felt, only just—

"One of these days I'll marry you, Ollie."

He closed his eyes in gratitude. Oliver laid his forehead against hers.

That was more than enough. For now.

But there was no rule that you shouldn't push the universe for everything.

"How about now?" he suggested gently.

He felt her lips press over his, and then slowly, meaningfully curve underneath his.

fin


End file.
